


To build a lover

by Anna_Charmie



Series: The Charmie Decameron [7]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: 1970s, Armie is a little awkward, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Special cookies, Timmy has a double identity, fun and humour, money problems, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28778052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Charmie/pseuds/Anna_Charmie
Summary: Armie is a clumsy, boring canadian bureaucrat who has no idea how to please a woman; when his fiancée dumps him just before their wedding day, he runs away to his best friend Nick, who lives in Pasadena, CA. Nick wants to cheer Armie up so he brings him to a club: there, Armie meets Skyler, a beautiful girl with green eyes and ivory skin, and immediately falls in love with her. What Armie ignores, is that 'she' is actually a 'he': his name is Timmy, and he needs a lot of money to pay his debts. Armie also needs help to get his fiancée back. So they make a deal.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer, Timothée Chalamet/Harry Styles
Series: The Charmie Decameron [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010889
Comments: 89
Kudos: 91





	1. What do you mean 'it's over'?

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I know: this is NOT the story you voted to be the next one! But with all the mess happening right now in the fandom, I felt very uncomfortable writing about BDSM and other stuff, so... a little funny story to cheer ourselves up until all this absurd situation will be finally over!! This is just a tiny first chapter to get into the story, I hope you'll like it! :)

Chapter 1: what do you mean “it's over”?

_Toronto, Canada, 1974_

If there is something Armand Hammer has always appreciated, is routine. Waking up and knowing exactly what to expect from the day to come. Same breakfast every morning: half banana sliced into fifty grams of granola, the perfect balance of sugars and fibers. Same bus at the same stop for the same destination: his office at the Canada Revenue Agency. Every day he goes to work, says hello to his colleagues (who adore him, by the way), sits down at his desk and spends seven and a half hours stamping documents relating tax refund requests: green stamp means _Approved,_ red stamp means _Rejected._ He loves his job, and he is so good at that! He was born to be a bureaucrat, just like his father before him, and his grandfather before his father. He has the same lunch every day: a sandwich, brown bread, butter only on one side, turkey, four slices of tomatoes, a chopped egg (but only the white part, he hates the yolk), which he eats on his desk, being very careful to not drop any crumbles on the tax documents, of course. And yes, sometimes his colleagues give him all their work to do, leaving all their folders on his desk so they can go home earlier, while he does a lot of extra (unpaid) hours, but it's ok, Armie loves his job and he wants his colleagues to like him, so he is more than happy to help. And even if they keep forgetting his birthday every year; even if they never invite him at company dinners; even if sometimes they don't even notice him being in the same room, Armie knows they adore him, they're just shy and discreet. Like any bureaucrat should be.

But the best part of the day, is when Armie comes back home to his beautiful, smart, sexy fiancée, Dakota: she is the perfect woman, sometimes he doesn't even know how he got so lucky to have that angel into his life! They met in high school and have been together for eleven years before Armie finally found the courage to propose: she had said yes with a shrug, she hadn't even cried, because she is also shy and discreet, even if she is not a bureaucrat (she is a massage therapist). She never complains when Armie works extra hours, the opposite, actually: she urges and encourages him to spend as much time as possible in the office, so she can receive her customers at home. She knows how much Armie loves his job, how happy it makes him. She is a real angel, and she will be a perfect wife and mother.

Every night, after dinner (which is the same monday to friday, while on saturday they order take away and on sunday they go to the restaurant downstairs) Armie and Dakota go to bed and passionately make love... for five, intense minutes. Armie kisses her on the mouth and neck, while touching her breast, but gently, because that's a very delicate part of a female body, especially before _those days_ (Armie is a fervent feminist, he has a lot of respect for women's bodies); then he moves on top of her and penetrates her, also gently, never forgetting to ask her if she is comfortable, if she's enjoying it, if she wants him to go slower or faster etc. He moves in and out until he feels his orgasm raise from his guts, but he always makes sure Dakota comes first: he knows she is very inhibited in bed, so she doesn't make many noises, just a few moans, which are the signal for Armie that she has reached her pleasure and he can let himself go. He comes with a low grunt and collapses on the mattress next to her. He never misses to tell her how much he loves her and how he can't wait for them to be husband and wife before they fall asleep hugging each other.

Yes, he really has a perfect life.

Or at least that's what he believes. Until one day he comes home earlier and discovers that, _ooops_ , he doesn't.

He opens the door and hears loud voices coming from the bedroom.

“Aaah... yeah... split me in two!”

“Yeah, I'll split this gorgeous ass in two”

“Call me a whore!”

“You're a whore!”

Armie immediately runs towards the room and the scene that materializes in front of him leaves him shocked and confused: his beautiful, perfect fiancée is on the bed, on her knees and elbows, and there is a man behind her, pumping into her back entrance. Their faces are red for the physical effort and their bodies are sweat. Dakota suddenly stops when she realizes Armie is in front of the door of the room, staring at them with a pale, upset face.

“Armie, oh shit” she says while slipping away from the man's grip. Armie shakes his head and runs away in the kitchen, but the woman follows him. “Armie, wait, that's not how I had planned to tell you... I'm so sorry, but this hasn't been working for a while now” she reaches him in the kitchen and raises her hands, trying to calm him down and make him listen to her. “I'm not happy anymore, I need something different. I want to fuck other people, Armie” she explains as simple as possible for him to understand.

“Oh” Armie seems even more confused now: he looks at her and his gaze softens. “I had never considered this option, but if it makes you happy, then I will accept that you see other people until we get married. It's ok that you want to make more experiences before committing for life” he smiles, caressing her cheek. If that's what his angel needs, so he will just comply and wait for her to go through this little whim.

“No, Armie, you didn't get it: I want to fuck other people _without you_ ” she clarifies, serious, “It's over between us”

“What? What do you mean _it's over_?” Armie drops his hand, his face showing distress and pain. He didn't see this coming.

“I'm dumping you. I don't think we should get married, ever. You should go back to your mother”

Armie feels the world fall on him. He looks at the only woman he has ever loved stepping away from him and leave the kitchen, and his body has suddenly become stone. He can't move a muscle, or think.

\---

Two weeks later, he is living with his mother, trying to pretend that everything is fine: he goes to work every morning, does his job, has his usual sandwich, does his colleagues' work, gets back home, has dinner with his mother. She asks him about his day, he says everything was fine. He goes to bed.

But the truth is: nothing is fine. Armie feels like he is losing control over his own life, and he desperately needs control. He needs for things to go back to normal, and _normal_ includes him and the woman he still loves getting married in three months, as they had planned. He needs to talk to someone who really understands him, so one day he picks up the phone and calls his best friend, Nick, who lives in the USA.

“Hey, buddy, what's uuuup?” Nick's voice makes Armie smile for the first time in ages.

“Hey, man, I... I'm actually not well” he replies in a low, sad voice. He tells Nick what happened, every single detail, and at the end of his monologue he hears his best friend sigh deeply on the other side of the receiver, and then staying silent for a while.

“Wow, that sucks” Nick just whispers, and after a few seconds of deliberation, he adds with enthusiasm: “Listen, I just got a few days off work. Why don't you jump on the first flight and join me here? I haven't seen you for what seems a lifetime, and California is beautiful in this period of the year. Come on! We will have some fun, like in the good old days” he proposes, and Armie can literally hear him smile through the phone. He smiles back.

“Yeah, you know what? This is actually a great idea. I have some spare holiday hours too, and if I spend another night on the couch with my mom watching _Funny Farm_ I swear I'll go totally nuts!” Armie accepts his friend's invitation with joy.

“Great, man, I can't wait to see you” Nick says.

“Can't wait to see you, too”

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get ready to meet Skyler in the next chapter! ;) ;) ;)


	2. California girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie goes to Pasadena and Nick takes him to his favorite night club. Armie meets a beautiful girl...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm very happy you liked the first chapter of this story, I know it was quite short but I wanted to give you a first glimpse into the story ;) So, a little explanation before you read: in this story Timmy has a double identity, the one as a boy and the one as a girl (Skyler). He is not a transgender person, so I will refer to him as "he" when he is being Timmy, and "she" when he is being Skyler. I really, really hope nobody will be offended by this story, and I am sure we all know the difference between being a transgender person and working as a drag queen (which is a very appreciated job, and a lot of cis men do it nowadays). Ok, that's it. Enjoy :)

Chapter 2: California girls

_Pasadena, CA, 1974_

Just as Nick had said on the phone, California is really astonishing in summer: everything is surrounded by warm colors (red, yellow, orange, green), everything is so alive and in movement, not only people but also the sea, the clouds, the palms swaying under the light breeze... the traffic is congested and Armie spends almost two hours in the taxi which is bringing him from LAX to Pasadena, where Nick lives. He looks out of the windows of the car and is really impressed by how people seem to live in this part of the world: the men have long hair and wear wide-legged trousers and flowery shirts; the women are all incredibly beautiful, with tanned skin in plain sight, long soft hair, roller skates and shopping bags. They are all so relaxed and happy, talking to each other in front of the shops, smoking, drinking Coca-Cola and dancing around the music coming from the car stereos. Armie wonders: if the people are all on the street, who is working? Do this people ever work? How do they make a living? How do they pay taxes? He can't wrap his mind around this mystery. He also sees a few couples kissing on the footpath: a couple in which the girl has a lovely dark skin while the boy is pale like the moon; a couple in which the girl is taller than the boy; a couple with two young men, kissing each other's cheeks and smiling carefreely. It's the first time Armie glimpses at a same-sex couple in real life; he had read an article in a scientific newspaper once, but he couldn't make an opinion on his own because the article wasn't very clear about the dynamics of the matter (and he also had found the author of the piece being a little too judgmental, which a professional journalist should never be), but actually be able to watch at one of those _new couples_ from just a few feet distance was a complete different story: Armie feels slightly uncomfortable the first few seconds, like he is spying at a private moment, but then he notices the genuine smiles and the sparkles in the two boys' eyes, and he realizes with quite sadness that he never saw such sparkle in his fiancée's eyes. Well, maybe at the beginning of their relationship, when they were in school, but then... oh, great, now he is thinking at her again. He had managed to resist half an hour without mulling over the way they parted, distracted by the wonderful images of the Californian streets, but now every thing he sees reminds him of Dakota, and it's painful and agonizing and he just wants to hug Nick and cry on his shoulder.

“Alright, ladies, the king is in town!” Nick screams while walking towards his best friend. Armie drops his small luggage on the footpath and lets the other man envelop him into his embrace, feeling the warmth and the comfort of the familiar touch. Nick's house is small, but very well furnished, and it has two nice bedrooms, so each of the two men will have his own privacy.

“Feel free to bring home any girl you can find” Nick reassures Armie, and he rolls his eyes.

“I'm not here for this, Nick. I'm here because I missed my best friend” he clarifies. Nick puts his arm on the man's shoulders, shaking him lightly.

“Come on, you're in California now, and you're single! It's time to release the beast” he jokes, trying to grab Armie's crotch with his hand, but Armie slips away from his grip: he's just not in the mood for this right now. Nick sighs. “Ok, you know what? Let's get changed and go to the beach. Maybe a good swimming session will give you some energy back”

The boys go to the beach every morning for a week, and the sun and the warm water of the sea are a blessing for Armie's sadness: he definitely feels better. They talk a lot, and Nick leaves his friend free to speak and cry and curse without interrupt him, because that's what he needs now. Armie keeps asking (to Nick, but actually to himself) where did he go wrong, what should he have done differently, how could he have been so blind to not notice his fiancée was so unhappy and unsatisfied in their relationship. Nick squeezes his forearm and smiles at him.

“Sometimes our best is just not enough. Maybe she wasn't the right person for you. If I can be honest, after all this time... I've never liked her, she always seemed to be so cold and indifferent to you, I don't know... I honestly think that dumping you was the first real nice thing she did for you in eleven years” Nick blurts out, with no filters between his mind and his tongue. Armie is surprised and a little upset, but doesn't say anything.

A few days later, he gives up and calls Dakota: he misses her voice, the sound of her laughing, the way she whispers his name. He is a coward, he knows that, but he just needs to talk to her, even if he is aware that it will probably hurt like hell. He doesn't acknowledge Nick's presence in the same room as he picks up the receiver and dials the number:

“Hey, it's me... yes, yes, I know we agreed not to call each other, but... I missed you so much! Please, Dakota, give me another chance, I'm a different man now, I promise! I will give you everything you need, just give me an opportunity to show you... no, I'm in California now but I will come back right now if you want... oh, ok, then I'll stay here, if you need me to stay away from you. Yeah, sure... anything you ask for. Sorry if I called you... hello? Hello? Oh, the line went dead” he murmurs to himself. Nick can't see his friend so sad and humiliated anymore, so he decides that Armie needs a shock therapy: he needs _The Scaramouche._

When the taxi stops in front of the club and the two men get out, Armie exhales deeply, clearly uncomfortable in his brand new red jacket (which Nick bought for him that same morning). _The Scaramouche_ is a very famous club, there is a long queue of people waiting for the bouncer to let them go inside; sometimes even celebrities from Hollywood come all the way to Pasadena to have some fun in the club. The owner of the place, Mister Styles, is well known as a man you don't wish to piss off. Nick signals to Armie to follow him and walks straight towards the bouncer, a huge man who is wearing sunglasses even if it's 9:00pm.

“Hey, Marshall, how's going, man?” Nick stretches his arm to shake the man's hand: the bouncer complies politely, smirking.

“Nick, we haven't seen you last week, the girls were all worried about you” he observes, and Armie isn't sure if the man is just kidding or if he's serious. Nick laughs, then he points at his friend behind him.

“Marshall, this is Armie, my best friend in the entire universe. He is feeling a little down lately, so I decided to take him to my favorite place”

“And you did right” the huge man approves, moving on one side to let them in (while the people in the queue start yelling and cursing at that injustice), “The girls will take good care of him, but remember the rule: anyone, except Skyler. You don't want troubles, do you?” the bouncer points his finger at Nick and raises an eyebrow behind the sunglasses. Nick shrugs and lifts his hands in defeat.

“No troubles, I swear” the young man promises, then he turns towards Armie and winks.

“Please, remind me why are we here” Armie whines. He would rather be anywhere else. Nick rolls his eyes and smirks.

“Because you need to get laid, man”

Inside the club, people are already dancing, drinking and smoking under the multicolor spotlights. There is a bar with two bartender girls, and Nick makes a beeline for the counter, slipping through the crowd.

“Hello, my Goddess” he says in a sensual tone when he reaches the bar: a blonde, thin girl with blue clever eyes smiles broadly at him.

“Hey, look who's back! We missed you last sunday” she replies, then asks him if he wants _the usual_ and he nods.

“I would like to introduce you to my best friend, Armie” Nick tells the girl, waving a hand in the direction of the man. Armie greets her and she interrupts her work for a moment to shake his hand.

“Hi, I'm Saoirse! It's pronounced like _inertia_ ” she explains quickly before going back to her tasks with cocktails. She passes Nick a glass of whiskey with ice and winks at him. She is really beautiful and Armie wonders if there is something going on between her and Nick.

“What are you drinking?” Saoirse asks to Armie and he looks quite confused.

“Uhm... I don't know, I've never had alcohol in my life” he confesses; the girl stares at him gaping.

“Yes, he is the last of the good men on earth!” Nick jokes, giving his friend a heavy pat on the shoulder. Armie shakes his head, and luckily there is not enough light for them to realize he is blushing.

“Well, in this case what do you think about trying my special _spritz_ ?” Saoirse proposes to the man, “It's only slightly alcoholic, nothing to worry about, I promise” she grins in such a lovely way that it's basically impossible for Armie to refuse her anything. He accepts the drink and insists to pay for it (even if she wanted to give him a first one for free).

Armie takes a sit at a table, watching the bar from afar: Nick keeps talking to Saoirse, and she seems very pleased and not at all annoyed by him, even if she keeps being busy with customers to serve and cocktails to do. The spritz is really, really good, and before he even realizes it, Armie's mind feels light and empty: he is not thinking about anything upsetting anymore, and he starts giggling out of nowhere. He feels... happy. And if just one glass of that miraculous liquid can do this, he wonders how utterly joyful he would be after a second one, so he (clumsily) stands up from the chair and slowly walks back towards the bar, when something attracts his attention and stops him halfway: a tall, slender girl in a short black dress is leaning against the counter, long dark hair covering her naked shoulders, miles of perfectly straight legs ending in dangerously high heels. She is looking towards the bar, so Armie can't see her face, but he imagines her being extraordinarily beautiful, like all the other girls in this Country. There is a man next to her, but she seems rather unimpressed by his attempt to catch her attention: he tries to make eye contact, but fails, since she keeps ignoring him. Then he puts an arm around her narrow waist, and she wriggles, trying to escape him, which makes the man even more persistent and a bit angry: when he grabs her wrist in his hand, Armie knows it's his moral duty to step up and save the girl from a dangerous situation, so he walks as fast as he can towards the counter and literally launches himself between the girl and the pervert.

“The lady doesn't appreciate your presence, so back off!” Armie yells, his voice slurred for being half drunk. The other man chuckles.

“If that freak is a lady, I am Richard Nixon!” he bursts out. Armie's eyes widen with anger.

“Don't you dare to insult the lady” he says and without any hesitation he steps forward and throws a punch at the villain... or at least he tries, because the man has very quick reflexes and he moves to the side, missing the shot, sending Armie off balance. The next thing Armie knows, is that he is on the floor, face hitting the tiles, his nose bleeding; he can taste his own blood into his mouth.

“Holy crap, are you alright?” the sweetest voice ever fills Armie's ears and he looks up: the girl with the black dress is on top of him, touching his jaw with the softest hands, searching for broken bones. Her face is the epitome of grace and beauty: pale, smooth skin, pink cheeks, red plump lips, a perfect french little nose and two big, shining green-golden eyes who are staring into Armie's soul. The man senses his own heart pumping in his chest like a crazy cannon. Ten seconds, and he is desperately in love. He doesn't even realize that Nick has immediately run towards him and is now lifting him from the floor, with the girl's help.

“Let's bring him to the couch over there” the mysterious young lady suggests, and they start walking through the room with Armie in the middle, carrying him by his shoulders. Armie keeps staring at the girl, deeply inhaling her perfume, feeling the warmth of her thin body next to him. He wants to talk to her all night long, he wants to know everything about her, but the only sound he can produce is a loud grunt when her and Nick drop him on the couch without any manners.

“Stay here man, ok?” Nick tells to his best friend, “I have a _business_ going on upstairs, but I'll be back soon, alright? You'll be fine” he reassures Armie and then quickly disappears through the crowd. Armie doesn't even register those words, he is too busy staring at the girl taking a napkin and dip it into some water, then push it on his face, trying to stop the nosebleed.

“Thank you for saving me from that peasant, honey” she chirps sweetly, and the sound of her voice is like the song of a siren, which attracts Armie and drags him in the deep waters of pleasure... her body is literally glued on Armie's side, and he can feel her thigh pressing on his crotch. He hopes he doesn't have a boner already: it would be very offensive and the lady would probably feel objectified (and we know Armie is a fervent feminist). The girl patiently cleans all the blood from his cheeks and chin, then she caresses his face and looks at him, fanning her long dark eyelashes.

“What's your name, big boy?” she enquires. It takes a full minute for the man to remember his own birth name.

“I... uhm, Armie” he growls, hoping that his breath is not stinking of alcohol too much.

“That's a very interesting name, it suits you” she replies, skimming her hand all over the man's chest, feeling the thick fuzz under the light fabric of his shirt. “Is it the short version of Armand?” she blinks seductively.

“Yeah, it actually is” Armie manages to say, while trying not to moan under her touch. It's been so long since a woman has touched him like that...

“I've always imagined someone called Armand must be tall, handsome and rich” she giggles, showing pearly white teeth. “And you are definitely tall and handsome” she bites her bottom lip, their noses almost touching. Armie wants to reach out and kiss her, but he is not drunk enough, unfortunately.

“Well, I am actually wealthy” he reveals, and unintentionally catches the girl's complete attention.

“Oh, are you? Please, tell me more” she whispers, a gleam of light in her eyes. She lowers her head and starts kissing Armie's neck, wide wet kisses. The man's eyes roll backwards and he moans, sounding like someone who is having a stroke. She gently bites at his jawline. “I have a private room upstairs, why don't we move there, honey?” she proposes, and her hand slips down over Armie's groin. He panics immediately and removes her hand as fast as he can.

“Oh, no, miss, please, I'm not that kind of man, and I'm deeply sorry if I gave you the wrong impression” Armie quickly justifies himself, “And I'm sure you're not that kind of woman, too. You deserve to be wooed and spoiled and treated like a princess. I want to do things properly, if you will allow me. I want to take you out for dinner... tomorrow?” he enquires, smiling full of hope. The girl stares at him in disbelief for some seconds, then she grins broadly and is about to reply, when another woman in a red sequined dress and leather boots reaches the couch and talks out of breath:

“Skyler, what the hell are you doing?! Mister Styles is here! You know he doesn't like to wait”

The girl sighs deeply, then she nods towards the other woman, as to confirm she got the message. She turns her head back to look at Armie again.

“Sorry, darling, but my man is here and I can't neglect him” she sounds genuinely sad having to leave this kind, weird guest, but she has no choice. Before Armie can even understand what's happening, the girl stands up and quickly leaves him alone on the couch, running through the crowded room and landing in another man's arms.

“What? No, _I_ am your man now” Armie mumbles, but she is already too far to hear him. He peers at the man who just stole his future wife: he is tall, fair brown hair, a smart gaze; he's wearing a white suite, a pink satin shirt under the jacket with wide lapels. He holds the girl in his arms, squeezing her small bottom and kissing her with an embarrassing passion. It's definitely too much to be in public, and Armie perceives the urgency to protect the lady's dignity. It's his moral duty as a decent man, after all. He stands up from the couch (with some difficulty, since his head is still throbbing after the fall) and keeps trotting until he reaches the couple.

“Hands off, you vile!” he shouts, his voice almost totally covered by the music. Mister Styles barely gives a glimpse at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Excuse me, sir?” he asks, sarcastic. “Do you know this freak, darling?” he addresses the girl, a proud english accent in his voice. The woman shakes her head, shrugging. She doesn't look at Armie. Mister Styles lifts a hand and a moment later two thugs are around him. “Please guys, kick this weirdo out of my club” he says calmly. The thugs surround Armie in one second, grabbing him by his armpits and dragging him outside the building, despite the man's attempts of rebellion. They literally throw him out of the back door, and he lands on a bunch of garbage bags, losing his senses.

It's six in the morning when two slender figures exit the club through the back door.

“Holy crap, Sersh, look!” the girl with the black short dress points at someone lying down on the garbage.

“Shit, that's Armie, Nick's friend” the bartender remembers him from the night before.

Saoirse and Skyler carefully get closer to the unconscious man, staring at him for a while, pondering about what to do.

“We can't leave him here” the blonde girl states, then frowns, “And where the hell are his trousers?” she snaps when she notices Armie is only wearing his boxers.

“Don't look at me, he still had them on last time I saw him” the dark haired girl lifts her hands, showing her innocence. “He must have been robbed while he was passed out” she concludes.

“Well, whatever happened, we cannot leave him here” Saoirse repeats with a concerned gaze, “We should bring him home with us and try to contact Nick”

“And how can we manage to put him into the car? This guy is huge!” Skyler points out. The other girl exhales with exasperation.

“Wait here with him, I'm going to call Marshall, he will help us” Sersh turns around and walks back towards the door.

“What should I do if he wakes up?” the girl in black panics.

“I don't know, Timmy! Hit him with a pan so he will faint again” the bartender yells sarcastically before disappearing behind the door.

Two green eyes stare at Armie for a while, in the chilling air of the sunrise.

“I wonder if you still want to take me to dinner, when you will see me in the daylight”

\---


	3. Freak like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie meets Timmy and discovers the yolk is not so bad. The boys find out they can help each other. Someone has other plans ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there are no particular events in this chapter, it's almost all dialogue between the boys (with a little "disturbance" towards the end, hehehe). Thank you for your lovely comments, kudos and for reading this little silliness!

Chapter 3: freak like me

Armie slowly opens his eyes when a lovely smell of coffee fills his nostrils. He finds himself uncomfortably curled up on a tiny couch (average sized couches are already small for his body, but this one is actually ridiculously small), and when he looks down he panics realizing he is not wearing his trousers anymore. He scans the room around him: is a kitchen, with yellow cupboards, a little sink, an old fridge. Definitely not Nick's kitchen (his new fridge with ice dispenser is his pride and joy). Armie focuses his attention and sees a girl pouring coffee in a mug with a cat painted on it. He recognizes her immediately: it's the bartender, Nick's friend. Which was her name? He coughs to let her know he is awake.

“Oh, good morning, sleeping beauty” she chirps, happy and adorable just as he remembered her from the night before. Armie smiles shyly and covers his legs with a blanket.

“Hello, uhm... where am I?” he asks, longing for a drop of coffee. Saoirse intercepts his gaze and immediately takes another mug from the shelf, filling it to the top and kindly bring it to the man.

“You are at my place. We found you passed out on a bunch of garbage, we couldn't leave you there” she explains.

 _We?_ Armie wonders who else lives in that microscopic apartment. Before he can thank her, she takes her bag and her keys from a chair.

“Listen, I have to go to my class. Don't worry, I called Nick, he is coming to pick you up when he leaves work. You can stay here, take a shower, make yourself at home. Timmy will wake up, eventually” she rolls her eyes, then blows a kiss to Armie and flies outside the door.

 _Who's Timmy?_ Armie wants to ask, but again before he can manage to open his mouth and connect his brain, the girl has already disappeared. He feels a bit like an idiot; his stomach rumbles, and he realizes he is a starving idiot. He gets up, searches for his pants, doesn't find them, wraps the blanket around his hips, just in case this Timmy guy should join him into the kitchen. He must be Saoirse's boyfriend. Well, she is absolutely stunning, sweet and smart, it would be strange if she was single. Armie wonders how Nick knows where she lives. Too many mysteries, too many questions, and he just woke up! He slugs his coffee. A noise of steps comes from behind him, and when he turns around, a boy with messy hair appears in front of him: he is still half asleep, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, and he is wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that says _I don't feel like being kind today._ He stops and stares at Armie, wide hazel eyes under thick eyebrows.

“Oh, hi. You're awake then” the boy says with a soft, sweet voice. Armie frowns.

“Do I know you?” he enquires, because he really has this weird feeling of knowing him, like a deja-vu or something. Timmy smirks, walking to the cupboard and then to the fridge, gathering some ingredients for his breakfast (which is actually a lunch, since is already afternoon).

“I think you met Skyler last night” he speculates, peering at Armie through his long lashes. The man seems to suddenly having an epiphany: he remembers the beautiful, angelic woman he met at the club, her voice, her scent, the warmth of her touch... he blushes.

“Yes, I did! Do you know her? Does she live here, or is she coming here later? How can I contact her?” Armie overwhelms the boy with questions, eager to know. Timmy chuckles.

“Calm down, Romeo. She's not coming back until tonight, I'm afraid” the boy reveals and shrugs. Armie exhales loudly.

“But I need to see her again. I love her!” he bursts out. Timmy raises his head and looks at Armie with a serious expression.

“Don't be silly. You can't love someone you've only known for five minutes” he states, seeming somehow offended by those words.

“But I do, I love her. She made me feel so... desired, and important. Powerful. I've never felt like that before. I need to see her again” the man begs, his eyes shining in the light of the late afternoon. The boy raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“She does that with a lot of men. You're not special” he states dryly. Armie is confused. He gives a better glance at the boy: his eyes, his jaw, his chin, his red full lips... he looks strangely familiar, but Armie can't remember where he saw him before.

“Are you her brother?” he asks all of a sudden, noticing the similarities between the two of them. Timmy bites a strawberry and laughs.

“I don't have any brother, _honey_ ” he replies, making a perfect impression of Skyler. An impression of himself. Armie stares at the boy for a few seconds, then the realization hits him like a runaway train.

“Oh” that's all he can manage to say; his brain is spinning with thousands of thoughts, questions, doubts, like a mad washing machine. He remembers how he had felt the night before, despite the drunkenness, and he can only find positive memories: the rush of courage when he stepped up to save the girl from that brute, and then the flirting, the teasing, the kissing and the touching... and it was with a boy. Dressed like a girl. That's quite confusing, but Armie is not freaking out; he's not angry, or disgusted, or scared. He's just very, very surprised. Mostly by himself. Timmy's lips curl into a smirk.

“Yes, _oh_ ” he repeats, breaking four eggs and mixing them with milk, sugar, rum and cinnamon. He raises his head when he realizes Armie is still looking at him. “Your mother didn't teach you that is very rude to stare at people?” Timmy tells the man, but there is no anger in his voice, he's just embarrassed by Armie's intense gaze on him.

“Sorry, I... I didn't mean to be rude, I'm sorry” the older man shakes his head, awkwardly lowering his eyes on the table. “What are you doing?” he enquires, trying to hide his nervousness.

“It's eggnog, it's good for hangover. You should have some” Timmy offers.

“I've never tried it” Armie confesses, blushing at the memory of getting drunk with one simple glass of spritz. “I usually hate the yolk, but for this time I think I could make an exception” he says, scratching the back of his head. Timmy pours some eggnog in a clean mug and passes it to Armie (their fingers brush accidentally, but they both pretend it never happened).

They drink in silence for some minutes, peeking at each other from time to time.

“So...” Armie tries, shyly. Timmy puts his mug down and makes eye contact.

“So: yes, I am a man. Yes, I have a penis. No, I don't use women's clothes all the time, only when I work at the club. Yes, I like men. No, I wasn't abused when I was a child, I just like men. No, I'm not a prostitute or a pervert, I'm a _performer_ ” Timmy blurts out all the answers even before Armie can make the questions. The man needs a moment to deliberate: he blinks towards the boy, unsure about what to say next.

“Alright” he murmurs, then clears his throat, “Listen, about what happened yesterday night: it was my first approach with alcohol and I'm not even sure what I did or said, but...”

“Don't worry” Timmy interrupts him “Nothing happened, and anyway it's not like someone is going to call your family and friends to expose your dirty little secret. Your precious masculinity is not in danger, I promise” he asserts, sarcastic and slightly hurt.

“No! I didn't... I wasn't...” Armie raises his hands defensively “I didn't mean this, you are misunderstanding my words. I just wanted to apologize if I have been disrespectful to you, or if I made you feel objectified or used. I'm deeply sorry about that, but I wasn't myself, or at least not totally” he explains. Timmy frowns, then smiles and lowers his gaze.

“You didn't do any of that. You were actually a perfect gentleman. You even refused to come upstairs with me” the boy blushes at that memory “But maybe it was better like this, or Harry would have killed you”

“Harry?” Armie asks, confused.

“Yes, Mister Styles. The one who kicked you out of the club” Timmy clarifies “He's the owner of the place. Sorry if I didn't say anything to help you, by the way. I just couldn't” he shrugs, feeling guilty. Armie clenches his jaw.

“Is he your... uhm, boyfriend?”

“What?” Timmy laughs “No, no, he's nothing like that. He is my boss, I work for him. Let's say I belong to him, in a way. Sometimes he buys me expensive things and in return I make him happy” he tilts his head at the side, a little cheeky, but Armie is a pure soul, everything is cryptic for him right now.

“Happy? How?” he inquires, no hidden intentions in his tone.

“Well, I can show you if you want” Timmy's eyes travel from Armie's face to his chest to his crotch, still wrapped into the blanket. The older man blushes furiously and involuntarily backs off a few steps.

“Thanks, but I'm fine” he reassures the boy. Timmy seems disappointed, but doesn't reply. He starts washing the mugs in silence. After a while, Armie has another question:

“Do you usually bring men _upstairs_?”

“No, I told you, I'm not a prostitute” Timmy repeats, “I don't sell myself. We have a show: I sing and sometimes play a scene with others like me. They call us _drag queens,_ but I don't know why people think we are all whores. We are not” he explains, and his eyes fill with tears. Armie frowns and feels guilty.

“Forgive me, I didn't want to insult you” he stops talking, wants to get closer, wants to touch the boy, but is afraid it would be inappropriate, so he just keeps staying still. “So why did you ask me? To move upstairs, I mean”

“Because I like you” Timmy replies quickly, “You're not like other men. You're... nice” he says, blushing, looking at his bare feet. He plays with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting for Armie to say something, or running away in panic.

“Yeah, I'm nice” the man chuckles bitterly “I'm so nice that my fiancée just dumped me for being too nice” he laughs, but it has a sad sound. Timmy gapes in shock.

“What?! Are you serious? Holy crap, some women have really no idea how lucky they are!” the boy shakes his head and Armie sighs.

“Apparently I have no clue how to please a woman. Maybe you know someone who can teach me” he jokes, but Timmy makes a serious face.

“I can” he states, straightening his back and shoulders. Armie thinks he's just kidding, and laughs again, but Timmy insists: “Really, I can! Just because I don't like vagina it doesn't mean I don't know how it works” he shrugs widely.

“Alright, then” Armie surrenders, nodding and grinning “But I want to do something for you, too. To say thank you” he proposes to the boy.

“Like what?” Timmy smiles.

“I don't know. What do you need?”

“A million dollars!” Timmy sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Well, I happen to be pretty good with numbers. I could help you draw up a savings plan for the next, let's say, five years?” Armie suggests enthusiastically, making it sound funnier than it actually is. Timmy grimaces.

“Something quicker?” he asks.

“It depends on how much you earn with your job and how much you spend for rent, clothes and other stuff” Armie explicates.

“Then I don't need a savings plan, I need a miracle!” Timmy whines, hiding his face into his hands. Armie gets closer and shyly pats the boy's shoulder.

“Come on, I'm sure the situation it's not so desperate” he sweetly encourages him. Timmy looks at him.

“You're really an incurable optimist, aren't you?” the boy jokes.

“I am indeed. And I think that with your help I will get my fiancée back, just in time for our wedding” Armie reveals and Timmy's smile fades a little.

“Oh, when would it be?”

“In a couple of months”

“Congratulations” Timmy whispers, hoping to sound genuine enough. The conversation falters suddenly, and they just stay in front of each other, looking around and fidgeting awkwardly, until the interphone buzzes loudly and they both flinch.

Nick comes to pick Armie up with a taxi: Timmy gives him a pair of his sweatpants, and they are ridicolously short on Armie's legs. They laugh.

“I'll come to give them back to you” Armie promises.

“So I can teach you some trick to make your fiancée scream” Timmy wiggles his eyebrows. Armie remembers Dakota's voice when he caught her with another man and suddenly feels sick. He tries to keep his composure.

“Yeah, uhm... see you soon, Timmy. Thank you for the eggnog” the man smiles and takes his leave.

\---

Two days later it's sunday and Armie and Nick are on the beach, spread under the sun like giant lizards. Even if Nick is back to work, Armie is still there: he bought an open ticket for the return flight, and his best friend had insisted for him to stay another week. They are planning to go back to _The Scaramouche_ at least another time before Armie leaves.

“What's up with you? You are distracted and quieter than usual” Nick asks Armie all of a sudden, concerned about his friend.

“Nothing. I'm fine, just enjoying the sun” Armie smiles and winks at him, then goes back to relax, closes his eyes and scratches his chest lightly. He can't stop thinking about Skyler. Or Timmy? It's difficult to say, since they are the same person. Timmy is beautiful, sweet and attractive both when he is wearing make-up and heels or a simple t-shirt. Armie really wants to get to know him better, but he has to go back to Toronto eventually, and try to get Dakota back, so... what would be the purpose of seeing Timmy again? It would hurt the boy, and also Armie himself. No, better leave things as they are. There is no need to complicate his life. Even if... no! He took a decision, and he will be coherent. He will stop mulling over the way he feels good when he's next to Timmy. He can manage, he is a strong man. Yes, he can stay away from temptations. A boy dressed like a girl, what an absurd idea! He should really stop relive the memories of the night at the club, when Skyler had kissed his neck and tried to seduce him, or the morning after, when Timmy had shared the eggnog with him and they had talked and laughed.

 _Because I like you... you're not like other men, you're nice._ Yes, Armie is a nice man. And where had this niceness brought him? His fiancée was probably shagging every man in Canada right now, and his colleagues had most likely already forgot who he was. His life was a complete disaster. Armie thinks about the notorious Mister Styles, and feels a rush of jealousy: the man has everything, a famous club, money, two thugs under his command... and he has Skyler. Armie wonders what Timmy meant when he said he _belongs_ to the man. Surely nothing good. Oh, that's another reason he should stay away from the boy. He doesn't want troubles, does he? Of course not.

On monday afternoon, Armie is searching for a clean shirt when he finds a pair of sweatpants which are definitely too small to be his own, or Nick's. He involuntarily smells them, sinking his face into the soft fabric, moaning at the thought of the skin of whom they had touched before his own. He's definitely losing his shit: he needs to see Timmy again, and luckily he has an excuse to show up at his apartment uninvited.

When Timmy opens the door and sees Armie, he gapes in surprise.

“Oh, hi big boy” he greets him, words slurred, smiling widely.

“Hello you” Armie frowns when he notices the bottle of cognac (almost empty) in the boy's hand. “Were you having a party?” he jokes while walking inside the kitchen.

“Uh? Oh, this one” Timmy points at the bottle and chuckles, “No, I just needed something to shut up my brain”

“Why? Something wrong?” Armie enquires, worried already. Timmy sighs dramatically.

“No, I mean, yes... I had a little quarrel with Harry last night” he admits, looking sad “It happens sometimes” the boy leans against the fridge and avoids Armie's gaze. The older man gets closer and, without thinking about it, he pinches Timmy's chin and lifts his head to make eye contact.

“Did he... does he beat you?” Armie asks, his heart pounding at the hateful idea of someone hurting Timmy.

“No, no, of course not” the boy quickly replies, holding the bottle to his chest, “He never laid a hand on me, I swear. He's just... he is a man who doesn't take a no as an answer. He likes to tell people what they can or can't do, and sometimes it's exhausting. That's it” Timmy shrugs. Armie takes the bottle from his hands.

“Alright, first of all let's get rid of this poison” he says and pours the rest of the cognac into the sink. “Then I would like you to make me some of that delicious eggnog, if it's not a problem” the man smiles broadly and Timmy smiles back at him.

“I thought you said you don't like the yolk”

“You never know if you like something until you try it” Armie tells then, and he is not even sure if he's still talking about the yolk. Probably not. Better stop talking. Timmy blushes and immediately busies himself with the ingredients for the eggnog.

While making the drink, Timmy explains Armie how he met Mister Styles: he was a poor boy from New York, who moved to LA with the dream of becoming an actor, but he had no school's diploma, no experience and no connections, so very soon he had found himself homeless and starving. And it was then that he went to the club and Mister Styles took him to work for him. Not just that: the man had paid for Timmy's acting classes in the last two years, he had bought him the apartment where they were right now, and he was paying for all Timmy's clothes and other stuff (make-up, wigs, shoes) for his performances at the club. That's why Timmy had said that Mister Styles _owns_ him, and until he won't be able to refund the man every penny he had spent for him, he will never be free to quit the club and move out. The boy looks very sad while he talks, and Armie starts to understand how things work in this part of the world.

They drink their eggnog in silence for a few minutes, then Armie claps his hands on the table, grinning enthusiastically.

“Ok, let's see what I can do to help you” he offers, and Timmy frowns.

“What do you mean? What could you ever do to make me quickly rich?” he laughs.

“Well, to start I could check your payslips and the last statements of your bank account, and match them with your monthly expenses. Do you keep a scheme or a spreadsheet with all your monetary incomes and fees?”

Timmy stares at Armie like he just spoke in an ancient, mysterious language.

“Armie, are you aware that everything I heard in the last twenty seconds you spoke is an indistinct babbling?!”

“Oh” the bureaucrat's smile fades. He inhales deeply, trying to find an easier way to say what he has to say. “Alright, let's start from the beginning: who pays the bills in this house?”

“Both me and Saoirse, we share them”

“Great! Do you keep the receipts after you pay them?” Armie speaks like he is facing a five years old kid. Timmy's eyes widen.

“I think we do! Just give me a second” he gets up from his chair and disappears into another room. When he comes back, he is carrying a huge, heavy cardboard box full of paper sheets and envelopes. He slams the box on the table without any manners. “There you are. Now do the miracle” he challenges the man, smirking cleverly. Armie chuckles.

“Do you have a calculator, by any chance?”

Armie spends the whole afternoon tapping on the calculator and making complex math operations to try to get a grip on Timmy's current financial situation (which seems, as he had predicted, a huge disaster). For the entire time, Timmy sits next to Armie, staring at him with a dreamy gaze, his face leaning on his palm, sighing from time to time.

“You're very sexy when you are focused” he says suddenly, making the man laugh and blush. Timmy touches Armie's bicep: “And you are quite well built to be a simple office worker” he huffs, getting closer and aiming at the thigh.

“Yeah, I'm an amateur boxer” Armie simply explains, not taking his eyes off his papers, “Nothing too exciting, just to keep myself in shape a little”

Just when Timmy is about to land his palm on Armie's thigh... the interphone buzzes. They both jolt with surprise.

“This must be Saoirse coming back from her class” Armie assumes.

“No, she has the key, why should she ring the bell?” Timmy gets up and answers the interphone: he gets pale and looks at Armie in shock. “I need you to hide and stay silent” the boy begs him after he hangs up. He urges Armie to leave the table and gently drags him into Saoirse's bedroom, which is just in front of the kitchen. “Please, stay here, and don't make noise!” he looks distressed, so Armie obeys without raising any objections.

From behind the closed door, Armie hears the main door getting opened and the voice of a man filling the room.

“I missed you”

“I missed you too” Timmy replies weakly. Then the sound of a kiss hits Armie's ears.

“What are you up to? What's this mess?”

“Nothing, just Saoirse making some spring cleaning, you know her” Timmy giggles nervously. There is a full minute of silence, and Armie worries: he slightly opens the door, just two inches, and the scene of Mister Styles' arms surrounding Timmy's waist like an octopus fills his vision. The two men exchange a passionate, deep kiss, and Harry's hands find no resistance in skimming any part of Timmy's slender body, taking off his shirt, opening the zip of his jeans. Then Harry turns the boy around and bends him face down over the table, lowering his jeans to his ankles, kissing his neck and back, massaging his small bottom. Timmy moans despite knowing they are not alone. Armie almost feels sick: he closes the door and leans against it, eyes shut, but even if he can't see them anymore, he can still _hear_ them. And he hears, everything. Sighs, moans, whispers, words, more moans... it's a torture, and even when he covers his ears with his palms, he is still able to listen to the obscene sounds of skin slapping, grunts and profanities. Timmy's loud moans remind Armie about the last time he saw Dakota, the way she was screaming and cursing, lost in pleasure with another man, while with him she had always been silent and motionless like a corpse. Was she faking all that time? All those years? Had she ever had a real orgasm with Armie? And why waiting for eleven years to tell him? Why accepting to marry him, even? Had she had lovers and secret affairs for the entire time of their relationship? How could have Armie been so stupid and blind?

The door of Saoirse's bedroom opens suddenly, and Armie is pushed forward: Timmy's messy mop of hair peeks inside the room.

“He's gone” he just says, not daring to look Armie in the eyes.

They go back to the kitchen, and Armie feels embarrassed to just glance at the table. That same table on which he was checking Timmy's bills just a few minutes ago, the same table where the two men had just had an intercourse.

“I'm so sorry, Armie, I swear I didn't know he was passing by today” Timmy murmurs, almost scared of raising his head and meet the man's judgement.

“It's alright, don't worry” Armie reassures the young man. There is a lump in his throat he can't manage to swallow. “Is he always so... dashing?” he asks, ironically.

“Yeah, most of the time” Timmy confirms, “But he treats me well, and he is the best that someone like me could hope to find” he shrugs.

“Someone like you?” Armie repeats, confused.

“Yes, someone like me. A _freak_ ” Timmy states, his voice low and trembling.

Armie takes a step forward and invades the boy's personal space.

“Hey, don't you ever, ever talk about yourself like this” he scolds Timmy, but there is a sweet smile on his face and his tone is calm and gentle, “If you are a freak, then I am a freak too! Look at me: I got dumped, I went to a club for the first time and got drunk with a spritz, I was kicked out and I ended up unconscious on a bunch of garbage, in my underwear!” he laughs loudly, “I would probably be still there if you and Saoirse didn't find me” he lifts a hand and lightly pinches Timmy's jaw, his thumb brushing on the boy's cheek.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, or maybe a few minutes, or hours, who knows? There is a twinkle in Timmy's eyes that Armie doesn't understand (or he is too scared to recognize). The younger man moves closer, their faces just a few inches apart... when the main door swings open and Saoirse's cheerful voice fills the apartment.

“Darling, I'm hooome!”

The two men immediately jump in two different directions, trying to act as chill as possible. The girl enters the kitchen and puts two huge bags of groceries on the table, where all the bills are still spread from earlier.

“Oh, hi Armie, it's so nice to see you” she welcomes him and then gets on her tippy toes and kisses the man on the cheek. Armie blushes furiously. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“Oh, thank you, but Nick is waiting for me, it's our mexican night and we are going to watch _The Godfather_ ” Armie spills the beans, taken pleasantly aback by the girl's kindness. He looks at Timmy, who is staring at his own multicolored socks. “Do you mind if I come back tomorrow to finish the job?” he nods towards the table covered in sheets and numbers, and Timmy smiles coyly.

“I would be delighted” he almost whispers, finally glancing up at the man's face, “And I promise nobody will interrupt us this time”

“And you will try my special cookies” Saoirse announces, a proud grin on her beautiful features. Armie chuckles.

“I'm looking forward to it”

“And I will keep my promise to help you back with your... _issue_ ” Timmy says, earning a questioning look from both of his friends. “You know, your little problem with the female anatomy” the boy's eyebrows raise a full inches.

“Oh, yeah, right” Armie blushes even more.

“Can I help you, too?” Saoirse asks, full of enthusiasm (even if she's not actually sure about what they are talking about, but still).

“Of course you can. You have to!” Timmy replies “You are the only one in this room who can show him practically what to do” he laughs. Armie makes a facepalm.

“Alright, I'm going” he walks to the door “See you tomorrow, kids”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saoirse cockblocker!! Hahahaha xD  
> Next chapter: "where is the clit?" and other feminine mysteries...


	4. Clits and cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weed, sex education and a secret ingredient. Oh and a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo omg I'm so overwhelmed by your lovely comments on this story!! Thank you so much! It's my birthday today and I just had some red wine, so I can't promise what I wrote makes any sense (not that it normally does, but still) xD  
> Enjoy the silliness! *KISS ALERT!*

Chapter 4: clits and cookies

When Armie reaches Nick's house, that night, he is smiling. He has walked slowly, light-hearted, with this big, dumb smile that never left his face since he had said goodnight to his new friends. He haven't felt so relaxed, optimistic, almost happy even, for years. He doesn't know why (well, actually he _knows,_ but the simple thought makes him freak out, so he tries to muffle the obviousness with an imaginary pillow, pretending that it's just the smell of California to cheer him up, nothing else), but he keeps grinning like an idiot for the whole way between the two houses.

He opens the door and sees Nick setting the table for the two of them.

“Oh, darling, you're home!” his best friend mocks him, faking a womanly voice. Armie laughs and helps him. After ten minutes, the doorbell rings and Nick welcomes the delivery boy of the mexican restaurant from which he ordered dinner: they seem to know each other very well, since they talk and laugh and pat shoulders like old pals.

“Jorge, this is Armie, my best friend, from Canada” Nick introduces the two men.

“Yo, man, how's life?” the young boy makes a fist and raises it towards Armie, to greet him as the young people do in this city, expecting the other man to do the same, but Armie mistakes the act and thinks that he wants to punch him, so he jolts backwards and moves in a defensive position (he is a boxer, after all). “Woo, calm down bro” the boy takes his hand back, disappointed and a little hurt.

“Don't mind him, he's having a hard time” Nick reassures Jorge and shakes his head.

“I'm not” Armie corrects his friend, pouting.

“Yes you are” Nick insists, then turns back towards the mexican boy: “His girlfriend just dumped him to be free to fuck around” he states dryly. Armie gapes, scandalized.

“She's not...” he starts, but gets immediately interrupted by Jorge.

“Shit, such a bitch!” he replies and pats Armie's shoulder in solidarity.

“She's not...” Armie tries again, and again gets silenced abruptly.

“Do you have something to comfort him?” Nick asks, and winks at the boy.

“Of course, _hermano_ ” Jorge announces enthusiastically, then picks something from the inside pocket of his jeans jacket: it's a small plastic bag with some green stuff inside. He passes it to Nick and receives a fifty dollar bill in return.

“Is that... cannabis?!” Armie whispers, quite shocked, eyes wide.

“No, man, that's oregano” Jorge blurts out, crossing his arms on his chest, “Do you think I'm a drug dealer just because I'm mexican? That's pretty racist, man! Shame on you” he points at Armie, clearly insulted.

“What? No, no, I'm absolutely... I'm not...” Armie stutters, raising his hands, getting pale “I didn't mean to offend you, I have a very deep respect for your culture and background, I promise” he defends himself, glancing at Nick to have some help.

Nick and Jorge stay silent for some seconds, then burst in laugh at the same time.

“Yo, man, don't get so intense, I was just messing with you” the boy squeezes Armie's biceps and lightly shakes him, then pats his chest and looks at Nick: “He really needs a good joint, bro, or he's going to have an aneurism” he says, still laughing. Armie is totally dumbfounded.

“Thanks, Jorge. See you next week” Nick dismisses the boy. They clap their fists together and he leaves.

Nick and Armie have dinner: everything is delicious, a little too spicy for Armie's taste, but he needs to try new things, right? So he eats a portion of each course, while they talk about going to see the Studios in Hollywood before Armie has to go back to Toronto (which he doesn't want to, by the way, but if he tells Nick, he will have to clarify _why,_ and he doesn't feel ready for that, not yet, even if he knows that Nick would support him no matter what).

When they finish washing dishes and Nick has brought the garbage outside, they sit on the couch with the intention of watching _The Godfather,_ but soon Armie gets distracted by Nick being busy rolling a perfect joint on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Try it, you won't regret it” Nick offers Armie the joint after taking a puff himself. Armie is unsure at first, but then he takes the item between thumb and middle-finger and tentatively inhales.

“Uh, this is strong” he coughs lightly, his throat burning. He waits for the effect, and after a while he starts feeling more relaxed, lightheaded and tipsy: he giggles and turns towards Nick. “I had forgotten how it was. Do you remember the party for your eighteenth birthday?” he pokes his friend's side with his elbow. Nick laughs loudly.

“Yeah, shit, we were so stoned we threw the cake into the pool!”

“Your mother was soooo pissed off!” Armie remembers. They laugh louder. “When did I become so boring and dull?” he asks, getting sad.

“When you met that horrible woman” Nick states, no sign of doubt in his voice. Armie rolls his eyes.

“Please, don't start again. You know I love her, and I'll do anything to get her back” the man declares, mostly to shut his friend up.

“You know I'm right. She will make you miserable, and when you'll get that too, it will be too late” Nick's eyes meet Armie's ones, and there is a tiny cell in the back of Armie's brain who knows it's true, but the man chooses to ignore it, as he had chosen to ignore so many other things before.

\---

“Hi, stranger” Timmy beams when he opens the door of the apartment and finds Armie in the hallway.

“Hi you” Armie replies, and he feels like he can somehow breath more easily now. They stare at each other in silence, smiling dumbly, for a while.

“Armieeeee!!” suddenly Saoirse shows up from the kitchen and runs towards their guest, wrapping her arms around the tall man's neck, getting on her tippy toes and kissing him on the cheek. Timmy sighs in annoyance, stretching his arm and politely inviting Armie to get inside. There is a wonderful smell of fresh baked pastries, and Armie's stomach rumbles with interest.

“You have to taste my special cookies” the blonde girl chirps, putting a tray on the table in front of the man. “I dare you to guess my secret ingredient” she challenges her guest, and Armie smiles. He bites a cookie and closes his eyes, moaning in appreciation. He engulfs two full cookies, then passes his tongue on his teeth, snapping it against his palate.

“I can taste chocolate, cinnamon, peanut butter, ginger and vanilla. Is it one of these your secret ingredient?” Armie enquires. Saoirse smirks cleverly.

“Nope. It's star anise” she reveals, unable to hide her pride.

“Right, now that you told me I can definitely taste it” Armie nods, then aims at the tray “But to be sure, better if I have another one” he jokes and stuffs half cookie into his mouth, making Saoirse and Timmy laugh. “You should sell them” he says with his cheeks full, looking hilarious.

“I tried, but they are not tasty enough to make any professional bakery interested in buying my recipe” Saoirse tells him, a little sad.

“Don't give up, you'll find someone, eventually” Armie reassures her kindly, and she smooches him on the cheek again. Timmy almost starts getting jealous.

Armie busies himself with the rest of the bills and tax receipts he couldn't check the day before, since he was interrupted by Mister Styles' _urgency._ When he finishes, he sighs dramatically and looks at the two young people staring at him.

“I made the calculations twice, and it's not good” he communicates to the couple of friends, “You have a debt of almost fifteen thousand dollars” he peers at Timmy in particular, because is mostly him who will need to find that money to be able to get rid of his obligation with Styles. Timmy nods.

“Yeah, I knew it was pretty bad. I will find a way, somehow” he replies. Saoirse leans a hand on his arm as to say _I'm here to help you._ They stay in reverent silence for a few minutes, then Timmy suddenly gets up. “Hey, we are forgetting we have something important to do!” he says with too much enthusiasm and glances at Saoirse, winking at her; the girl lifts her eyebrows and makes a little _O_ with her lips, as she just remembered something crucial. She leaves the table and goes into her room, closing the door behind her. Armie seems confused until the girl comes back into the kitchen, and the man's eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment: she is only wearing her bra and underwear, and she has a white board with her. When she turns the board and puts it on a chair, Armie (who desperately tries not to look at Saoirse's almost naked, beautiful body) realizes that there are some sketches on it: is the pattern of a vulva (complete with pubic hair).

“Welcome to your first class about how sexually please a woman” Timmy announces, unable to hold back laughter at the sight of Armie's shock and extreme shyness. He's cute, though. Saoirse takes position, standing next to Timmy, and he points at her with a chopstick: “So, this is a woman” he starts, and the girl rolls her eyes so hard she can see her own neurons.

“Yeah, no shit” she huffs. Timmy ignores her and goes on talking.

“The woman's body has several erogenous zones: lips, ears, neck” the boy starts to list them, and he points at each of them with the chopstick, tickling Saoirse and making her giggle. “Armpits, elbows, breasts, belly button, knees, ankles, feet, and of course our main goal: the vagina!” Timmy points at the girl's most intimate place, and Armie blushes furiously from the tip of his hair to his chest (and probably further). He facepalms.

“Alright, great, I got it. Can I go now?” he whines.

“No, you can't!” the two young people shout out at the same time.

“You have a practical exercise to do” Timmy winks and Armie panics.

“I'm not going to... practice on her” he rebels. Saoirse gapes.

“Not on me, you maniac!” she jokes, and her and Timmy burst in laugh, “You will do it on a surrogate” she clarifies. Timmy opens the fridge, takes off a pulpy, flawless peach, cut it in two and gives Armie the half without the pit.

“Now, imagine this is a vagina” the boy explains. “What would you do to start warming up the situation?” he wiggles his eyebrows. Armie studies the fruit for a while, then says hesitating:

“Uhm... I kiss the girl and then I... we... make love?” he shrugs. Saoirse frowns.

“Yes but before you make love, how do you ignite her desire? How do you make her get wet?” she presses him. Armie looks really lost; he blinks, while his brain gets totally frozen. Saoirse grunts in frustration: “You suppose to lick it, you dumbo!” she yells, making Timmy chuckle behind her. “Show me the clit” she orders, putting her hands on her hips.

“I... uhm” Armie turns the peach in his hands, then points at a random spot in the pulp.

“Congratulations, you just licked her asshole!” Saoirse tells him, and Armie makes a disgusted face.

“No, wait, it's not totally wrong” Timmy interferes, hands up, “It's actually really pleasant and erotic, if it's done properly” he reveals, blushing a bit.

“You are confusing him even more” Saoirse complains, waving towards Armie, “Can we please stay focused on the vagina? It's not like everything is always about you men”

“Holy crap, why are you turning this into a feminist battle?” Timmy whines, dropping his arms in defeat. They are so absorbed into their quarrel, that they don't even notice Armie eating the half peach with a certain satisfaction.

“ _Shorry_ ” he mumbles with his mouth full when the two kids look at him again. Timmy sighs, rolls his eyes and goes to fetch the other half of the peach from the fridge.

“You suppose to _eat it_ , but not literally” the boy giggles. Saoirse clears her throat to get Armie's full attention back on her.

“Ok, so let's try again: find the clit and show me how you use your tongue”

Armie sticks his tongue out and slowly leans the tip in the middle of the peach, glancing up to search for the girl's approval.

“Better, yes, but a bit further up” Saoirse moves her hands towards the ceiling “Up! Up up!” she repeats, and Armie slides his tongue on the peach until the top, then starts lapping at it just like he remembers having done a few times with some girls at school (well, he wasn't a virgin when he met Dakota, that's for sure). He goes on licking the imaginary clit until Saoirse's soft voice distracts him: “Yeah, just like that, baby” she huffs, and when Armie looks up, both the girl and the boy are staring at him with open mouths, flushed cheeks and dreamy eyes.

“Holy crap, he's good at that” Timmy whispers, head on her shoulder.

“Yes, he's a natural talent” Saoirse confirms.

“I need a vodka” the boy states.

“And a cigarette for me, please” the young woman solicits him.

“Was it correct?” Armie asks, glancing back and forth between the two people.

“Definitely” Saoirse sighs, fanning herself with her hand, then she notices the time. “Shit, I'm going to be late for my class!” she kisses Armie on the cheek, Timmy on his lips and runs away, disappearing in her room and slamming the door closed.

Once they are alone, Timmy and Armie sit on the tiny couch, a few inches apart, sharing the blanket because even if it's summer, the evening is always a little bit chilly. The TV is on, but nobody is watching it; they awkwardly fidget with the blanket or the cushions, gazing at each other from time to time and giggling. They both breath slowly, almost scared to make noise and break that weird peace; there is something unspoken between them, something electric in the air, like an expectation, a longing, the desire to get closer but the fear of moving too fast, too soon. Armie is grateful for the blanket, because the early sex education's class has left him with a giant boner and he is just too shy to excuse himself and go to the bathroom to fix the situation. He coughs lightly, scratching his temple.

“Do you and Saoirse kiss on the lips like, all the time?” he blurts out, and he has absolutely no idea where the hell this is coming from.

“Yeah, sure” Timmy shrugs, smiling sweetly.

“I see” the man nods. “Is it something you young people usually do in this city? Like clapping fists or... other things?” he stares at his hands on his lap. The boy laughs.

“Why are you talking like you were a retired, old grumpy man?” he jokes, making Armie chuckle too.

“Yeah, that sounded pretty lame. It's just... I think I'm just jealous, because I'm a terrible kisser. Always been” he confesses, blushing a bit. There is a long, heavy moment of silence, during which Armie is worried he got too far and maybe Timmy got the wrong idea and...

“Do you want to practice?” Timmy suggests, sounding somehow breathless. When Armie doesn't reply, the boy backs off: “I mean, I probably shouldn't... you know... let's just pretend I never said it, sorry” he quickly withdraws his offer, lowering his gaze.

“I would like to” Armie's voice is barely audible (while his heart is pounding like a jackhammer in his chest). He gets subtly closer to the boy, his body pushed forward by an invisible force; the same force that brings Timmy close too.

“Alright then, let me see how you would normally kiss” the younger man shuts his eyes and tilts his head, waiting. Armie tries to keep the panic at bay: he pecks the boy's soft, red lips; it lasts less than two seconds, he even keeps his eyes open.

“How was it?” the man enquires.

“Uhm... nice” Timmy frowns “If we were thirteen and this was our very first kiss” he jokes, giggling nervously.

“I told you I was terrible at that” Armie chuckles, “Any suggestion?”

Timmy seems to gather his thoughts for a few seconds.

“Try to relax your jaw, keep your mouth slack, like this...” the boy cups Armie's cheeks and pushes his chin down, then attacks him with his own lips and starts kissing him _properly._ It's a long, passionate kiss, wet and messy and Armie can't help himself: he moans, lost in sensations. Timmy straddles his hips, getting on top of him, letting the blanket fall on the floor, brushing their thighs and groins together, discovering Armie's hardness.

“I'm sorry, I... can't control it” the older man apologizes, scared of being inappropriate. But Timmy doesn't mind, quite the opposite actually.

“I could... if you want...” he offers, his bottom lip trembling. His hand is just about to travel towards south on Armie's body, when the man stops it and brings it to his own lips, kissing the palm softly, almost with reverence.

“I want to, but it would be unfair” he looks at the boy with a warm gaze, full of fondness “We both know we are starting developing... an attachment, a feeling to each other, and it would be wonderful to see where it goes, but I have a fiancée somewhere else and even if we are facing a moment of crisis right now, the wedding hasn't been cancelled yet, so...”

“She dumped you, Armie” Timmy interrupts him abruptly: he's not going to take any of this bullshit.

“No, I mean yes, she did, but she was just confused!” Armie shakes his head. “She will change her mind eventually, and everything will go back to normal” he says, but it's more like he's trying to convince himself instead of Timmy. “You are the most special, beautiful person I've ever met, and I will never forget you, I swear it on my own life” he caresses the boy's delicate face, catching a falling tear with his thumb. “Please don't cry. You kill me if you cry” Armie begs, and he's quite sure his own eyes are bright with unshed tears.

Timmy leans into the touch for a little while longer, then he opens his eyes and meets Armie's gaze.

“I have a show at the club in an hour, I need to get ready” he murmurs. God knows if he would prefer to stay there all night, crying in Armie's lap instead, but he's quite sure Mister Styles would notice his absence if he doesn't show up. Armie nods and they move apart.

\---

Armie finds Nick busy making a small joint with the last crumbs of weed he has left.

“I should ask Jorge to bring an extra portion for you next time, so you can take it to Toronto when you leave” his friend kindly suggests, lightening the joint and taking a generous puff.

“Oh, yeah, I'm really eager to get caught with a bag of cannabis at the airport in front of thousand of strangers” Armie replies sarcastically. Nick laughs and passes the pot to his best friend. “Also, you know I have not even a bit of your talent with rolling so perfectly” Armie examines the item in his fingers, quite impressed.

“You don't need to smoke it, you could put it in little satin bags and use it like an infusion” Nick instructs him “Or you can cook it, using it like a spice. You could put it in cakes, brownies...”

“... cookies” Armie adds. It's not a question. He stares at Nick with eyes so wide he looks hallucinated. He doesn't say anything when he runs out of the door, not even bothering to close it.

He arrives at _The Scaramouche_ after running for half an hour: he feels like his lungs are going to explode very soon, he is completely out of breath. Armie approaches the main door and desperately tries to remember the bouncer's name from last time.

“Hey, uhm, Marcel?” he takes a chance “Hi, it's me, Nick's friend!” he waves at the huge man, who doesn't twitch a single muscle. “Listen, I really, _really_ need to go inside and talk to a person, please” Armie begs him. Finally the bouncer seems to acknowledge his presence.

“It's Marshall, and you've been banished from this club perpetually” he grunts, lifting an eyebrow. “If Mister Styles catches you here again, he'll shoot you”

Armie swallows: he is not used to face death threats. He could wait tomorrow to go to the kids' apartment and explain them his idea, but he is too excited and eager to tell them (and to see their faces when he will), so he pretends to give up and going away, but instead he walks on the other side of the building and finds the back door, which he knows very well. There are two women outside, smoking and chatting.

“Good evening, ladies” Armie greets them politely. They scan him from head to toe.

“Hello, eye candy” one of them replies, and Armie realizes they are drag queens. They must definitely know Timmy and Saoirse.

“My name is Armand, I was here some days ago with my friend, Nick” he brings his best friend in, hoping that Nick's good reputation in the club could somehow open the doors for him.

“Oh, Nick, such an adorable guy!” the taller woman says.

“He is so funny and a real gentleman” the other one adds. They giggle.

Armie clears his voice:

“I really need to talk to a person who is inside right now, but unfortunately I've been, uhm, _exiled,_ let's say so, and I was wondering if you could help me” he pleads hesitantly, showing his best smile.

“Who are you looking for, darling?”

“His name is Timmy, or Skyler, when she works here”

The two drag queens share a look, then turn back to the man:

“Oh, you are in big, big troubles Casanova!”

“You know she fucks the boss, don't you?”

Armie raises his hands in self-defense. 

“No, I'm not here to... that's not the reason, I promise. I just need to talk to her about business, money” he clarifies. The taller woman drops the rest of the cigarette on the floor and crushes it with her spike heel.

“Alright, I'll see what I can do. Wait here, pretty boy” she chirps and they both disappear behind the door a second later. Armie patiently stands at a safety distance from the building, not wanting to risk to be caught by Styles' thugs. Last time they weren't very nice with him, and that's a statement. A few minutes later, the door gets opened from the inside and a thin figure peeks outside.

“Hello?” a familiar voice whispers. Armie moves forward and stops in the cone of light coming from a street lamp.

“Hi, don't be scared, it's me” he says, and he is unable to hide the emotion in his tone. Skyler meets him halfway. She is utterly beautiful tonight, even more than usual: a green long dress, red wavy hair (it's a wig, but it suits her perfectly); glitter all over her face, her eyes shining like two emeralds. She's breathtaking, seriously.

“Armie? What are you doing here, are you crazy?!” she tries to keep her voice as low as she can, but she actually wants to yell at him for being so stupid and reckless.

“Wow, you are... wow” the man stares at her in absolute awe, not even finding the right words to express himself. He holds her tight in his arms, even if he knows he shouldn't; he is aware he's hurting her; he's not allowed to touch her like that. She's not his. Timmy is not his. But Armie just can't help it: he is being the most selfish man in the world right now.

“Why are you here? It's dangerous!” Skyler warns him when they part. Armie cups her glittered cheeks.

“Do you remember when you asked me to do a miracle and make you rich? Well, I just had the most insane idea _ever_ ”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Saoirse's cookies get even better and Armie discovers the perks of walking on high heels xD


	5. Gold diggers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "cookie team" in action: they have a perfect plan, but someone gets in the way. Armie discovers his feminine side. A little fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo people! Thank you for reading, commenting, kudoing (??), everything. I'm a little fed up with this story so I'm happy I can wrap it up in only 6 chapters (I hate to leave things unfinished). We are almost there! Hope you like it :)

Chapter 5: gold diggers

“Are you totally out of your mind?!” Skyler blurts out in shock after Armie has explained her his crazy plan. They are still in the small forecourt behind the club, and she has to go back inside for her show in a few minutes.

“No, listen to me: this is a good idea, we will make a lot of money in a small amount of time, and then you will be able to pay your debts with Styles and you will be free to leave the club, look for a job, take more classes, try to become an actor... you will have your life back” Armie explains her, his eyes wide for the excitement (and maybe a tiny bit because of the weed, but just a bit). Skyler sighs, rubbing her forehead, doing her best to remain calm and rational.

“Alright, listen, I'll ask one of the girls to bring you the key of my apartment: go there and wait for me and Saoirse to come back. We won't take long, midnight or about” she suggests and Armie nods.

“Ok, as you wish” he murmurs; then, if it was the most natural movement, he leans forward in a clumsy attempt to kiss her, but he regrets doing it when she softly pushes him away. “Sorry, I didn't mean to...”

“It's fine” she smiles feebly “Let's just try not to make things more complicated” Skyler caresses his cheek for a moment, then goes back inside, disappearing behind the door.

As she promised, a few minutes later another drag queen reaches Armie in the forecourt and gives him the key of Timmy and Saoirse's apartment: he knows the way, so he thanks the girl and slowly walks towards the place.

The apartment is empty and silent, but the lovely smell of the cookies is still there: Armie finds a few left into a plastic container and takes one. He wonders how will they taste when they will add the new _secret ingredient._ He is absolutely bewildered about how his life has gone completely upside down in just a few weeks: he has gone from being the most boring, dull and predictable person on Earth, to be a man who smokes joints, goes to clubs and kisses boys. And he damn likes all these new activities (especially the last one). He has gone from living a life in black and white, to a life in full technicolor, like one of those new home televisions which people go crazy for lately. Everything he had to do, was to take a step outside his own comfort zone. And he did it. And he definitely doesn't regret it. Because it led him to feel alive again, to feel good; because it led him to Timmy. There are some pictures clipped on the fridge: Timmy and Saoirse hugging each other; Saoirse while working as a bartender; Timmy on a stage, probably during one of his acting classes. Armie takes the last picture from the fridge and brings it to his lips, smells it, as to searching for Timmy's sweet scent there. He smiles at his own silliness, though. He passes a finger on Timmy's face on the picture, then puts it back on the fridge door.

Timmy and Saoirse come back home around half past midnight. Armie is on the couch, desperately trying to keep himself awake: he shakes his head when he hears the key turning into the lock.

“Hi, guys” he stands up awkwardly, feeling like an intruder at that hour of the night. Saoirse doesn't seem bothered: she hugs him as tight as she can and kisses him on both cheeks. Timmy is back in his male clothes, but there is still glitter on his face: he didn't have time to remove all his make-up properly after the show, he just took his friend and rushed home.

“Come on, tell her what you said to me earlier” the boy invites Armie to outline his plan to Saoirse. Armie inhales deeply.

“Yes. So, basically we will put marijuana inside your special cookies, we will sell them at the club, we will raise a lot of money and then you and Timmy will be free to buy a place of your own and leave the club for good” he explains, smiling broadly, his fists in the air as to foretaste a sure victory. The girl gapes at him, then chuckles.

“Armie, are you aiming to get yourself killed?” she asks the man, but it's clearly a rhetorical question. “We all know Mister Styles has banished you from entering the club, and we all know he is not a man who likes to be fooled. He will shoot your ass the moment you approach the club's door” the young woman reminds Armie, a warm concern in her voice. She turns towards Timmy: “Tell him too!”

But the boy is staring at his feet, silent and pale.

“Do you mind to give us a minute, Sersh?” he asks, his voice barely a huff. The girl nods, rubs Armie's bicep with a fond smile and goes to her bedroom, leaving the two men alone in the kitchen. Armie looks at the boy, feeling more and more nervous; he tries to talk first, but Timmy precedes him: “Why would you do this, Armie? What comes to you if you help me?” he lifts his head and finally looks at the man, “I am a stranger to you, after all”

“No, you're not” Armie frowns, “You're not a stranger, not anymore. And I want to help you because... because... I want you to be free to live your own life the way _you_ want it, not someone else”

“And then what? We will be together happily ever after?” Timmy's voice is trembling slightly, his features distorted in a pained expression. Armie shrugs widely, shaking his head, looking away from the boy. Timmy nods and chuckles bitterly: “Yeah, of course, you'll go back to your life and I will be just some nice tale about that scrawny kid you met once” he jokes, but there is no joy in his words.

“Don't say that, you know you are more than this to me. Much more” Armie gets closer, but doesn't dare to reach out and touch. He's too scared of being rejected.

“Please, stop torturing me like this” Timmy begs, his eyes watering, tears ready to flood. “You clearly said you're going to get married very soon, so why do you suddenly want to put your own life in danger just to help me? It doesn't make sense”

“I won't put my life, or any other life, in danger, I promise” Armie reassures the boy; he's unable to resist the temptation to cup Timmy's glittered cheeks and brush his thumbs on the high cheekbones. “I know where we can find the weed, and I'm quite sure Nick will help us. I only have to figure it out how to get myself into the club without having Styles' thugs on me in three seconds flat” he laughs, hoping to ease Timmy's concern at least a little bit. The truth is that Armie is also pretty worried about his plan: he's not a drug dealer, he's a simple bureaucrat, he never had to sell anything in his life, let alone something illegal! If they get caught, Mister Styles' revenge will be the very last of their problems. But Armie can't let his anxiety distract him right now: he needs to stay focused on the plan, or everything will end up in shit.

“Ok, then” Timmy has to surrender, despite himself.

\---

It takes a whole week to prepare the plan in every single detail. First of all, Armie has to ask Nick for his help: he has a very good reputation in the club, so it will be easy for him to get inside, talk to other customers, test the waters... at first, though, Nick's reaction is slightly dramatic:

“You gotta be kidding me, Armie! Do you realize if I get caught, I will be banished from any club not only in Pasadena, but in the whole fucking Country!” he cries out in desperation, “And what will I do then? I will have to settle down, find a wife, have a boring life just like yours!” he hits him where he knows it will annoy Armie the most. Armie rolls his eyes and patiently explains his best friend that if they make a lot of money, as he predicts they will, Nick will be able to open his own club, with rigged slot machines, poker tables and professional strippers. Nick's eyes twinkle with excitement, and he suddenly fully supports the plan.

Then, Nick has to call Jorge and ask him for a bigger supply, as big as he can: the boy doesn't make any question, and promises to get back in touch after a few days. He calls them four days later, announcing he has his hands on a huge stock of the highest quality, but he has one condition: whatever the hell they're planning to do, he wants to be part of the game, and he wants a percentage at the end. Nick and Armie can't do anything else but accept the deal.

When the _stock_ gets delivered, in the middle of the night, they have to rent a little storehouse to hide it, because of course they can't keep something like that in their apartments. They sign the lease contract with a fake name, and nobody bothers to check. So far, so good.

They spend the next three days baking hundreds of cookies: the oven in the kids' apartment is quite small, so they have to do them into Nick's kitchen, which has a bigger oven. Since Saoirse is not used to such a modern, complicated equipment, she is unsure about how to set the baking time: she goes for a full hour, but the oven is indeed very powerful, so the first two trays of cookies end up being completely burned and impossible to eat (let alone to sell). She resets the baking time to forty minutes, and once they have tasted the cookies and confirmed they are excellent, they start baking like an assembly line. The amazing smell of chocolate fills the entire neighbourhood, and a few people even knock at the door of Nick's house to inquire about it.

“Sorry, it's a secret recipe, I can't disclose it” Nick explains politely, but Armie suggests they could try to sell a few cookies to the younger neighbours, just to check on the effect. Nick freaks out, scared of being caught and kicked out of his apartment.

“Nobody will kick you out, trust me” Armie promises “If something happens, we can always say that the ingredients were not fresh, or expired”

Nick peers at the blonde man suspiciously.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” he mocks him, and Armie bursts in laugh.

“There is something in California that turns me into a bad, bad guy” he jokes, peeking at Timmy who is helping Saoirse putting the cookies into some boxes: Armie catches the boy staring at him and smirks, while Timmy blushes and looks immediately somewhere else.

They sell a few cookies to a couple of neighbours, then wait expectantly: when the neighbours come back asking if they can buy more of them, the four friends realize that the plan could actually work, after all.

\---

The night they chose as their first attempt to sell the cookies comes, and the whole team is vibrating with anxiety and excitement. Saoirse will work at the bar as always, while Timmy, or better say Skyler, will entertain customers to find the potential buyers; Nick will be inside as a usual guest, making sure that Mister Styles and his thugs keep a safe distance from the girls (and from the cookies, which will be hidden into Skyler's changing room). The great unknown is still how to usher Armie into the club without being seen.

“I could have an idea” Saoirse raises her finger, as if they were in school, to get permission to speak, “But you won't like it” she grimaces towards Armie.

At 10pm that night, a taxi stops in front of the entrance of _The Scaramouche_ and two beautiful ladies get out of the car: the first one is tall, slender and elegant, her body wrapped into a golden sequined short dress and purple spike heels, black wavy hair and green emerald eyes, red lipstick, feline movements; the other one is definitely too tall, not elegant, broad shoulders and narrow waist, a black long dress, leather booths with high heels (which make her even taller), blonde curly hair, clearly uncomfortable walking in those clothes and shoes.

“I can't believe I left you and Saoirse convince me to do this. I'm simply ridiculous” Armie whispers, while desperately trying not to trip over his heels and break his neck. He keeps pulling his dress down while the bra straps are literally killing him.

“Shut up, you're gorgeous” Skyler replies, glancing at the giant woman next to her, “You just have to get used to it”. They reach the main door and find Marshall, arms crossed on his chest and sunglasses, as usual. “Hello, darling, how are you tonight?” Skyler greets him, then she waves towards her guest and introduces her: “Marshall, this is my friend... uhm... Gloria! Gloria dear, this is Marshall”

The bouncer's gaze caresses Gloria from head to toe.

“Oh hello, miss” he says seductively, lowering the sunglasses for a moment to better enjoy the view: the woman's eyes are so wide that she could drop her bulbs on the floor any second now. “I'll still be here when you get out, if you want to go and grab a beer” he offers, but Skyler hooks her arm around Gloria's elbow before she can give the man any answer.

“Sorry, darling, we are very late!” the smaller girl announces before taking her friend away from her suitor.

“Shit, for a second I thought he recognized me and we were screwed” Armie sighs with relief when the two of them are far enough from the bouncer. Skyler is walking fast and Armie struggles to keep the pace on the high heels. “Hey, stop dragging me! Oh, wait, is that why they call you _drag_ queens?” he jokes, winking when Skyler looks at him with annoyance.

“Holy crap, stop making daddy jokes and remember: from now on your name is Gloria and you have been in the business for several years, ok?” she repeats the plan to Armie, who nods.

“Yes, yes, don't worry, I got it” the man assures, then smiles: “Why Gloria, by the way?”

“Because I think you are glorious” Skyler mewls, and her voice is like hot caramel poured on a slice of cake. Armie would kiss her, if this didn't ruin their make-up.

After one hour, they sold a dozen of cookies. The strategy is simple: Skyler and Gloria lure the clients, talking to them, asking if they want to try something more _particular,_ and when they ensure the sale, they get close to Nick and make a signal, so the man knows he has to fetch a few cookies from Skyler's dressing room. When the client pays for the cookie, they pass the money to Saoirse, who has a secret box hidden under the counter of the bar. Simple, clean, discreet. And the fact that Mister Styles is in Albuquerque for a business trip makes things incredibly easier.

At the end of the first night, they all go back to the kids' apartment and Saoirse spills out the content of the box on the kitchen table: they count seven hundred forty-eight dollars in total.

“Is it good?” Nick wonders, glancing at the others. Skyler grins:

“It's amazing! And if we keep this rhythm, in a few weeks we will have enough money to cover all my debts, buy a new car for Saoirse, a club for Nick and... well, whatever Armie wants” she looks at the man and her smile fades a little. Armie wants to say: _What I really want doesn't involve money,_ but he merely smirks back at her. The four friends celebrate all night, drinking cheap wine and making absurd plans on how spend their money.

After the first week, they earned enough money to cover half of Timmy's debt with Styles. They could do better, but unfortunately the owner of the club is back and, even when he's not there in person, his thugs are always around, glancing at any client, checking any corner, searching for intruders like hunting dogs, so the _cookie team_ has to be extra careful. Anyway, despite the interference of the thugs and Mister Styles himself, who requires Skyler's full attention all night long, they manage to make a good deal of sales during the second week too. Everything goes smooth, until one night one of the other drag queens passes Gloria a tiny piece of paper and disappears before Armie can enquire about it. The man unfolds the note and reads: _I'm waiting for you upstairs, Skyler._ Armie grins and his heart starts pounding heavily in his chest: did Timmy finally forgive him for rejecting him the day they kissed? Has he realized that he cares about Armie and wants to be with him? He doesn't waste a minute: runs towards the stairs, taking the steps two by two (despite the high heels), and searches for the right door. He finds it pretty easily: it has a big golden star on it with an _S_ in the middle. Armie doesn't knock, he just pulls the handle and enters the room. He frowns when he notices it's empty: the bed is perfectly tidy, the lights are dimmed and there are red roses and a bottle of champagne on the nightstand. It's clear that she was waiting for him, but where is Skyler? Armie walks a few steps closer to the bed and sees her satin robe folded on the mattress: he grabs it and lifts it towards himself, burying his face into the soft fabric, deeply inhaling her scent. Timmy's scent. He is so focused on breathing into the robe that he doesn't even acknowledge someone else's presence behind him, until he can clearly feel a cold, round object pressing into his nape. Armie's heart stops when he becomes aware that it is a gun.

“I thought I made it clear that I don't want you in my club anymore” an english accent freezes Armie's blood, “But you had to play this game, coming back here and starting using my customers and my employees as pawns for your dirty trades. Did you really think that I wouldn't have discovered your little business? Do you think I'm stupid?” Styles accuses him, voice cold as the barrel of the gun. Armie closes his eyes, ready to embrace his destiny; his only regret is that he never said Timmy how he felt about him. The door swings open and Skyler enters the room:

“Harry, I got your message. What do you wan...” her words stop abruptly when she understands what's going on: she sees Harry's angry face, then his arm, then the gun, then Armie's head (well, the blonde wig that covers it, but the rest of the body is unmistakable). “Please, Harry, please, don't do it. I can explain” Skyler pleads, trembling already.

“So it's true, you're working with him. You betrayed me!” Mister Styles looks genuinely surprised and hurt. “How can you do this to me? After all I did for you?”

“Yes, Harry, you did so much for me, I was just trying to give you back the money you've been spending for me in this last few years. I swear it was my idea, mine and only mine. Nobody else is to blame, only me” she carefully gets closer and leans a hand on Harry's chest, then on his cheek, in a desperate attempt to soothe him. “Why don't we send him away so we can talk alone?” she proposes, whispering seductively, caressing Styles' face and neck the way she knows he likes it. The man closes his eyes for a second, but quickly comes back to reality.

“Who else is involved?” he asks dryly.

“Nobody else, I swear it on my own life” Skyler lies, mostly to protect Saoirse. She would take a bullet in order to protect her best friend. But she also has to make sure Nick and Armie don't face any consequence; she had to find a way to kick Armie out of that room, and then Harry can make whatever he wants with her. She cups the man's face with shaking hands. “Please, darling, can we just... talk? I already have a bunch of money, and it's all yours, if you want it! It's in my apartment, hidden in a safe place” she kisses him on the lips, checking at the gun from the corner of her eyes. “Why don't we go there, so you can take the money you're owed and we can be alone for a while?” she offers, sweet and sinful all at once.

“Are you trying to distract me? Why?” Harry turns towards Armie “Is there something going on between you and this... freak?” he glances back at Skyler, his face flushed with rage.

“No, no honey, I'm yours. I've always been yours” Skyler appeases him, placing hot wet kisses on his neck. Slowly, Harry lowers his arm so the gun is not threatening Armie's life anymore. Armie (who didn't have the guts to say a word for fear of causing a slaughter) breathes deeply with relief, but doesn't turn around yet.

“Get out of my club, now” Mister Styles orders the taller man, and his voice doesn't allow any reply. Slowly, Armie moves around, searching for Skyler's eyes, but she is tightly wrapped into Harry's embrace, and they are passionately kissing. Armie walks towards the door and before going out, he peeks behind himself one last time: he catches the moment Skyler gets down on her knees in front of Mister Styles, and it's too much to bear. Armie speedily leaves the room and closes the door with a thud.

Nick and Armie get back home with a taxi (and the driver's face when he sees Armie dressed as a drag queen makes Nick giggle for the entire journey home). They still have a remarkable quantity of the _secret ingredient_ into their storehouse, so they have to decide what to do with it. Well, they're not going to waste it, that's for sure.

Armie can't sleep: he spends the whole night tossing and turning, worried about Timmy, about what that criminal could have done to him after Armie left the room. He is wondering what is going to happen now: what about the cookies? What about the money? How will Timmy manage to find the rest of the money, now that their plan has been screwed up? Will Mister Styles ever allow Timmy to have his own life? To become an actor, to have a place for himself to live in? Armie feels his chest tighten more and more every passing minute. He needs to see Timmy, to check if he's fine, to thank him for saving his life. He waits until the sun raises, then gets up from his bed, takes a quick shower and heads for Timmy's apartment, hoping to find him already awake.

When Timmy opens the door, half an hour later, he is paler than usual, his hair is a mess and he has red marks all over his wrists, arms and neck.

“What did he do?” Armie huffs, guilt raising from his guts. “Did he beat you because of me? Timmy, please, tell me the truth” he begs, but the boy simply turns around and goes to the kitchen.

“Let's try not to wake Saoirse up, ok?” Timmy only says. Armie softly grabs his shoulders and engulfs his delicate figure into a warm, tender grip: he holds the boy into a squeezing embrace, not a word between them, hoping that his body can express everything Armie is unable to say with his mouth.

“I'm so sorry, Timmy. My stupid plan put you in danger. I will never forgive myself for whatever he did to you last night” Armie's voice sounds thick with distress and regret.

“He didn't do anything worse than he usually does to me, really” Timmy calms the man down, disentangling himself from the embrace. “Some people like a little... roughness during sex. He's one of those people. But it's fine, seriously, I got used to it now” the boy assures, smiling feebly. Armie knows it's a lie: he cups Timmy's pale cheeks.

“If I was your man, I would be only kind and gentle to you. I will treat you like a precious creature, a miracle. I would never leave marks on your skin, I would just worship you every night. I would do anything to make you happy, I would never hurt you for my pleasure, that's sick and twisted” Armie tells him, grimacing at the simple thought of it.

“I know” Timmy murmurs, and his smile widens. He gets on his tippy toes and kisses Armie, and this time is not a _practicing_ kiss, shy and insecure: it's a real kiss, deep and wet and passionate and messy. Their tongues wrestle frantically; Armie lifts Timmy's light body until his feet are not touching the ground anymore, and Timmy clasps his arms around Armie's strong neck. They have definitely forgot they need to breath.

“Take me to bed” Timmy mewls the moment their lips part.

“Alright, but we will only cuddle. I am dazed enough after the crazy night we just had” Armie laughs, and Timmy thinks that's the most beautiful sound in the entire universe.

They lie down in bed, as close as they can be, Armie spooning Timmy from behind, softly caressing his arm and chest, kissing his neck, ear, shoulder; Timmy makes tiny sounds (sighs, moans) from time to time, until he stops and Armie knows that he fell asleep. He follows him right away.

They sleep for a few hours, then Armie says goodbye to Timmy and Saoirse (who hugs him even tighter than usual when she hears what happened last night at the club) and goes back to Nick's house. He promises he will come back in the evening and bring some nice food. He kisses Timmy's nose before he leaves.

When he opens the door to Nick's apartment, he immediately perceives someone else is in there: all his senses go on alert, because his first thought is that Mister Styles has found out Nick is involved and has sent one of his thugs to hurt him. Armie makes a beeline to the living room, but he gets stopped by his best friend himself, who keeps him on the threshold for some reason.

“Armie, I didn't know she was coming, I promise” Nick sounds both astonished and desperate. “I'm so sorry” he whispers, moving aside. Armie peeks into the room, and his heart stops beating: Dakota is sit on the couch, smiling at him. She gets up.

“Hi. I missed you” she says in the sweetest tone.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-ta-ta-taaaan! Who will Armie choose? His old, safe love or a new, exciting unknown love?? We will discover it in the last chapter, hopefully within friday. Stay safe!!


	6. Jolene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie takes a decision, but will it be the right one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we areee, last chapter people!!! I'm totally overwhelmed by all the love I received for this little story, thank you for reading, commenting and giving me the strength to keep writing despite everything :)  
> If you are wondering what the title of this chapter refers to: it's a song which fit perfectly with a scene of this chap (to listen to the song go here ----> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ym12hnB7oZo )  
> Please let me know if you enjoy this finale!!

Chapter 6: Jolene

_Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene  
I'm begging of you please don't take my man  
Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene  
Please don't take him just because you can_

_Your beauty is beyond compare  
With flaming locks of auburn hair  
With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green  
Your smile is like a breath of spring  
Your voice is soft like summer rain  
And I cannot compete with you  
Jolene_

_[...]_

_And I can easily understand_ _  
_ _How you could easily take my man_ __  
_But you don't know what he means to me_ _  
_ _Jolene_

(“Jolene”, Dolly Parton)

“Hi. I missed you” Dakota says, smiling at Armie with shining eyes, and after a second she throws herself into his arms, filling the man's nostrils with her lovely, feminine scent. Armie hugs her tight because, despite everything, he missed her too. You can't forget someone who's been with you for eleven years in just a few weeks. Dakota kisses him, then gives him a look from head to toe.

“You seem different” she says, smiling broadly “You also smell different”. Armie feels his heart sink on the floor: _that's because you're smelling someone else's scent,_ he wants to say. He didn't change his clothes after sleeping with Timmy, so what Dakota smells is actually Timmy. She suddenly becomes serious: “I'm so sorry, Armie. I screwed it up, I know, I was so stupid and selfish! It's really true that we don't appreciate what we have until we lose it” she caresses the man's cheeks, kisses him again. “I felt so alone without you. I know I hurt you so bad, but I'm different now, I realized how much I love you and how much I want to be your wife! Please, forgive me, tell me you still want to marry me, please. That's everything I want” 

Armie keeps staring at her, unable to speak. Unable to think. He needs some air, needs to get out of that living room before he has a panic attack.

“Why don't we go out for a walk? So I can show you the neighbourhood” he suggests, and Dakota nods enthusiastically. She holds Armie's hand for the entire walk.

\---

When the phone rings, that evening, Timmy knows it's Armie calling him: he  _feels_ it into his bones, so he picks up the receiver with his stomach making somersaults.

“Hello?” he whispers, heart pounding.

“Hi, it's me. Uhm, Armie” the voice on the other side of the phone replies, and it's exactly the voice Timmy was expecting to hear. 

“I miss you. When are you coming back?” Timmy asks eagerly, not caring to hide his impatience. There are a few seconds of silence, then a deep sigh.

“Listen, Timmy, something happened and I... uhm, my fiancée is here and... we are going back to Toronto in two days, so... I'm very sorry, about everything, but mostly for not being able to help you repay your debt in full. I wish I could have done more, really, you deserved so much more, Timmy. So much more” the voice murmurs, hitting straight into the flesh like a sharp blade.

“Oh” it's the only thing that Timmy can manage to reply. He is suddenly cold, he's freezing, even if it's a warm summer evening and the sunset makes the sky look red and orange outside the window. His hands are shaking. 

“I just wanted to say thank you, for everything. You made me feel... alive. Happy. Being close to you was probably the best thing that happened to me in years. I will never forget you, and I hope you will save a positive memory of me, too. Please, tell Saoirse she's amazing” Armie says, and there is a smile in his tone. A sad smile, though.

“Ok” Timmy replies dryly. He hears another sigh.

“We knew this would happen eventually, I'm just sorry it has to be so soon. I wish we had more time, but probably it's better like this: it will hurt for a while, sure, but we will get over it. We will heal. It would have been worse if we... got closer, you know” Armie rambles awkwardly. Timmy doesn't know what is he supposed to tell him right now.

_Please, don't go. You're breaking my heart. I love you. She will never love you like I do. She dumped you, she cheated on you. I would never leave you, I would never cheat on you. I love you. I love you. I love you._

“Yeah, right, whatever” he just mutters instead, before hanging the phone down without even give Armie a chance to say goodbye to him. He goes into his room and slams the door closed. Armie never calls back.

At some stage during the night, Saoirse gets up because she needs to pee. When she goes back to her room, she clearly perceives someone sobbing heavily. She opens the door of Timmy's bedroom and peeks inside.

“Honey, what's wrong with you? What happened?” she enquires, totally worried, running towards the boy's bed and immediately wrapping herself around him like a human blanket. “You were fine when I left you yesterday afternoon”

“Armie called after you were gone to your class” Timmy reveals, sniffing noisily. “He is going back to Canada with that woman in two days! Why, Sersh? Why is he doing this to me? To himself! After what she did to him” he mumbles and cleans his nose on the sleeve of his pajama shirt.

“Wait, you mean his fiancée?” Saoirse sounds incredulous, “Did she have the audacity to come here to take him back? That bitch! How does she dare?” she yells, clenching a fist in the air.

“I don't know. The only thing I know is that he chose her over me. I've never had any chance against her, Sersh” Timmy acknowledges sadly, “She was always his first choice, since day one”

“But it's not fair, I mean, I saw how he looked at you. I saw his eyes while he looked at you, Tim, and... I had never seen so much love in a gaze before. Never” Saoirse confesses. To those words, Timmy starts crying again, shuddering and sobbing in his best friend's arms. Saoirse holds him as tighter as she can, shushing him and kissing the back of his head. Then she lifts slightly and says: “Ok, we need to fight back the bitch! Listen to me, Timmy: you need to remind Armie what he's missing, you have to show him that you are better that her, in every single way. Because you are, Timmy, so much better than that horrible woman” she tries to instill some self-confidence and courage into her best friend. 

“What should I do? They are leaving in 24 hours” Timmy whines.

“Well, if I was you, I would storm at Nick's house and throw myself into his arms! Uhm, I mean, Armie's arms, not Nick's, of course” Saoirse stutters comically and corrects herself. Timmy chuckles.

“Holy crap you have a huge crush on him, don't you?” of course it's a rhetorical question. “You should ask him out” the boy suggests.

“What? No, no, absolutely not. I'm a strong woman, I don't need a man to feel complete” Saoirse replies stubbornly.

“Oh well, it's a pity because I saw how he looks at you and you should know your crush is definitely reciprocated” Timmy reveals, tapping his fingertip on her nose. She shakes her head and stands up from the bed.

“We are talking about you right now, and what I want you to understand it's that you should keep fighting until the last minute, because Armie truly is a man worth fighting for” she states passionately, because she knows how deep are Timmy's feelings for Armie. And she wants Timmy to be happy. Timmy nods and leans his head on the pillow while Saoirse kisses his cheek goodnight.

The morning after, quite early, Timmy takes a long shower, pays particular attention to his skin routine, puts on an elegant but very elaborate make-up, wears the short black dress he was wearing the first time he met Armie, spike heels at his feet, and calls a taxi.

Fifteen minutes later, Skyler is knocking at Nick's house door. Her stomach shrinks when she sees the handle moving, but the person who shows up behind the door is not who she was expecting to be: a pretty woman with blue eyes and long, dark hair is staring at her in surprise and confusion. The two women stay in silence for a few, awkward seconds; Skyler is not stupid, she knows Armie didn't tell his fianc é e anything about her, about them being together, kissing, sleeping in the same bed. She inhales deeply and tries to gather some bravery.

“Good morning, my name is Skyler, could I speak with...”

“Oh, you must be here for Nick” Dakota interrupts her unkindly, giving the girl a glance from head to toe, her expression halfway between disgust and pity. “God, I've always known he was a pervert, but this... ugh” she grimaces. Skyler senses a wave of rage raising from her guts and fog her brain up.

“No, I'm not here to see Nick, madame. I'm here for Armie” she declares, straightening her back and shoulder as much as she can. Dakota lifts her eyebrows and crosses her arms on her chest. 

“And how do you know my fiancé?” she hisses, clearly annoyed.

“He came to my club. He was nice and kind to me, because that's what he is: a kind, pure man who deserves to be loved and cared about. He deserves the best in life. He deserves someone who loves him exclusively, totally, without any doubt” Skyler tells her, struggling to keep herself in one piece and not crumble under Dakota's look of disapproval. 

“He already has someone who loves him, it's _me_ ” his fiancée informs the unknown girl.

“I'm sure you have a sincere affection for Armie, but you should know I love him too. I love him more than anything. And you see, it's not easy for someone like me to find a good man, a respectful man, but somehow destiny has brought Armie to me, and it won't happen a second time. So I'm asking you... no, I'm begging you: look into your heart and find out if you really love him, if you really couldn't live without him, and if the answer is no, please, leave him free to choose someone else, someone who will love him above all things” Skyler pleads, leaning a hand over her heart, a solitary tear crossing her cheek. “You are such a beautiful woman, I'm sure you have a queue of men who would do literally anything you ask them to do. But for me... Armie is my only chance to have someone who really cares about me, who really _sees_ me, the real me. I would never have this luck twice. I just want him to be happy, and I'm sure that's the same thing you want for him, so please, let him decide what is best for him. Please, don't take him away from me before I can speak with him one last time” it's impossible for Skyler to keep the tears at bay anymore, so she lets them fall free across her delicate features. But apparently it's useless, because Dakota's gaze hardens even more: she takes a step forward, getting closer to the girl, quite intimidating and threatening.

“How you dare to talk to me like this, you ridiculous freak?!” she points a finger on Skyler's face, very close “If I see you around my fiancé again, I would cut your balls off, so maybe you will finally look like a real woman” she mocks her meanly, aiming to hurt her. Skyler takes a few steps backwards, almost tripping on her heels, hugging herself, shaking and crying. Dakota goes back inside the house and slams the door closed. 

Timmy waits for Armie's phone call all day, but it never comes.

\---

From the day they leave Pasadena to the last minute before his wedding, there is no single moment in which Armie doesn't think about Timmy. Everything he says, everything he does, everything he sees, reminds him of the beautiful boy he met in California.

_Would Timmy like this cake? Has he watched this movie? Would he tell me to wear this tie or the other one?_ Every second of Armie's life is slowly becoming a torture. 

Him and Dakota have lived separately the whole month before the wedding, officially to make their reconciliation more romantic, but actually for the simple reason that Armie didn't want to have sex with her. He stayed at his mother's house, and she was so happy and proud of him for choosing to forgive Dakota and marry her; Armie doesn't want to give his mama another disappointment, so when the wedding day finally comes, the groom wakes up, wears his suite, combs his hair and waits for his mother to join him into the limousine that will lead them to the church.

While waiting at the altar, Armie loosens his tie, trying to swallow the painful lump stuck in his throat: his eyes skim at the little crowd of people sit on the church benches, and it's weird how he doesn't remember most of their names, or how they are related with him. The only person he really wanted there today, Nick, has refused to be present, for the obvious reasons Armie knows very well.

Suddenly the music starts and Dakota appears at the end of the aisle, arm in arm with her father. She is stunning in her bridal gown, and her smile brightens the whole place. She reaches the altar and Armie takes her hands in his ones, but he's not smiling.

The priest's voice is intolerably annoying: Armie feels the urge to punch him in the face and shut him up. He does it in his fantasy, and smirks.

“Armand, do you want to take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife...” 

“I'm sorry, I can't” Armie murmurs, then clears his throat and repeats it louder: “I don't want to marry you, Dakota, I'm sorry, but I just can't” he shrugs. Dakota's eyes widen and her face crimsons: she looks like she's going to explode like a balloon.

“Armie, are you drunk? Or is this a stupid joke?” she shrieks, and for a moment Armie thinks she's going to start drooling like a bulldog.

“No, I mean it. I can't marry you, because I'm in love with someone else. Someone better than you” he thinks about Timmy's way to wrinkle his nose when he laughs, and for the first time in weeks, Armie smiles, an open and genuine grin which includes his eyes. He leaves the altar and starts running through the aisle towards the exit door.

“Armie, come back here! Armie! Is this about that freak? Armieee!” she shouts out, while the guests are totally bewildered, but the groom keeps ignoring her. “Armie, you can't leave me, I'm pregnant!” she tries a desperate attempt, and then Armie finally stops in the middle of the aisle and turns around to look at her.

“Oh well, give my congratulations to the father... if you know who he is” he mocks her, laughs savagely and with a few more long strides, he reaches the door, exits the church and never looks back. He gets on the limousine and knocks at the dividing glass between himself and the driver.

“Bring me to the airport, please, as fast as you can!”

\---

At 5:00am Nick is awakened abruptly by the ring of his phone. He doesn't even lifts his head from the pillow: he just slips a hand out of the sheets and blindly searches for the receiver, dropping an empty glass and a box of condoms (also empty) from the nightstand before he can find it.

“Yeah?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep and hangover.

“Hey, it's me, Armie! Sorry for the early call, but I couldn't wait”

“You couldn't wait to call me during your honeymoon?” Nick grunts, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. 

“I'm not at the Maldives, Nicky, I'm at LAX. I'm at the airport!” Armie has to yell because the place is very crowded and noisy. Nick sits up, shocked.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, I'm here! I'm waiting for a taxi, I'll come to you but I need to see someone else before, ok? I shall see you in a few hours. Oh and Nick: _you were right._ Remember this date because you'll never hear these words from me again!” Armie jokes and hangs up. Nick dumbly stares at the receiver of his phone for a few minutes; he winces when a feminine hand touches his side.

“What's wrong, honey?” Saoirse asks, caressing Nick's back. Her hair is a disaster, but she's still gorgeous. 

“Armie is here in California. He called to tell me he's going to Timmy right now” Nick smirks towards her.

“Whaaat? Holy crap!” she screams and jumps on him, and they both collapse on the mattress laughing.

_\---_

The journey in taxi from the airport to Timmy's place is endless and exhausting. Armie wants to cry. When he finally ( _finally_ ) reaches the door of the apartment, he is unsure about knocking or not: maybe it's too early and Timmy is still sleeping after one of his late shows; maybe Timmy has never forgiven Armie for leaving him the way he did (and Armie would totally understand, seriously, he would accept it and try to make amends somehow) and he will refuse to talk to him. Maybe Timmy is not alone in the apartment... well, if that scumbag of Styles is in there, Armie is ready to punch him in the guts just like he deserves. He will kill the man, if he needs to. Getting rid of a corpse shouldn't be so difficult anyway. After almost ten minutes of doubts and anxiety, finally Armie gathers some courage and gently knocks on the wood. Timmy appears from behind the door, rubbing his eyes, pale, skinnier than Armie remembered him; he doesn't seem very healthy. The boy stares at Armie with a blank face: he's not happy to see the man, and it's not like Armie can blame him, but he doesn't even look pissed off or annoyed. He's just... deadly indifferent. 

“Hi” Armie tries then, smiling, not moving forward. He gets no reply; he clears his voice, rubs his palms together. “I didn't get married. I couldn't because, you see, I met someone else, someone who makes me feel like a giant, like a hero. Like a man who has a meaning in this world. And I know you said I can't love someone I've known for so little time but... this is it, this is happening: I love you, Timmy. _You._ Your sweetness and your courage, your patience and your kindness. And I know what I did was unforgivable but if you could just...”

“How did you call me?” the boy interrupts him all of a sudden. Armie blinks, taken aback for a moment.

“Uhm... by your name?” he explains, confused. Timmy shakes his head.

“Armie, you are not in love with me, but with who you wish I was. You are in love with Skyler, not me” 

“What? No, no that's not true” the man takes a step towards Timmy, falls on his knees, leans his cheek on the boy's stomach and wraps his hands around the other man's waist. His fingers touch and he realizes how Timmy is even tinier than the last time he saw him. “I love you, I swear. It's your eyes I want to see when I wake up; it's your voice I want to hear before I fall asleep. It's your skin I want to feel under my palms. It's your mouth I want to taste when we kiss” he promises, nuzzling into Timmy's t-shirt, smelling that scent he had missed so badly. Timmy's fingers land in Armie's blond hair, lightly grazing at the scalp. 

“I'm a man, Armie. My body is different from the ones you have known so far” the boy states, but there is a hint of warmth in his voice, as he was slowly thawing in Armie's embrace. 

“The body is just a shell, Timmy. It's a box, a container. It doesn't matter. I love who you are inside. I think our souls met even before our bodies did” the older man lifts his gaze to meet the boy's eyes. “I would understand if you couldn't forgive me for leaving you as I did. It was cruel and selfish, I know, I didn't even give myself a chance to see you for the last time because if I did, I would have never left Pasadena. I would have never left _you_ ” Armie smiles and leans his forehead on Timmy's navel.

“I came to Nick's house that last morning, Armie” Timmy whispers, his voice trembling just as his hands. “I wanted to talk to you, to beg you not to leave me, but your fiancée got in the way and when you didn't call me back I thought that you... wait, she never told you” the boy finally realizes. Armie looks up again and his eyes are wide with surprise.

“Did you come over? Really? She didn't tell me. I was out with Nick that morning: my suitcase was broken and we went to buy a new one. I don't understand, why didn't she...?” he stops talking and there is a sudden epiphany going on in his memory: Dakota yelling at him from the altar _Is this about that freak?._ Armie didn't even notice it in the very moment, because he was too focused on escaping the church and running to the airport. Dakota had met Timmy, she had spoken to him, and she had purposely avoided to tell Armie about it. Because she knew she wouldn't have been the first choice anymore. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Timmy. You clearly thought I didn't care about you! You must have felt so lonely and disappointed and angry... now I know you will never forgive me, and maybe it's the right thing to do. I'm not worthy of you, I've never been” Armie raises from the floor and takes a few steps backwards, putting some distance between the two of them.

“No, Armie, please wait” Timmy says feebly. He stretches a hand towards the man standing in the middle of the hallway. “Why don't you come inside, so we can talk? I have fresh eggs, I will make you the eggnog” he smiles, cheeks flushed. Armie starts breathing after a long time in apnea. He takes Timmy's hand and follows him in silence. Timmy closes the door behind them.

When Saoirse storms into the apartment, she doesn't even bother to check if there is someone inside and maybe she's interrupting something  _important._ Luckily she's not. She finds Armie and Timmy cuddled on the small couch: Timmy curled in the older man's lap, Armie holding him tight and kissing his forehead. They have clearly cried, a lot.

“Aaaaahhh holy crap you're back!” she screams at the top of her lungs, probably waking up the entire neighbourhood. She throws herself into the embrace.

“Hey, I missed you, tough girl” Armie welcomes her and let her squeeze him as much as she wants. He isn't used to all this affection, yet. A masculine voice comes from the kitchen.

“Is there an orgy and I haven't even been invited?” Nick's broad smile meets the three on the couch. Armie is totally overwhelmed.

“Hey, man, what are you doing here?” he asks his best friend. Saoirse pats the tiny space on her side, inviting the man to join them. Now that they are all sit down, they realize how the couch is really, really too small. 

“I couldn't wait until tonight to see that dumb face and laugh at you for screwing up your own wedding day” Nick replies, mocking Armie who fakes indignation, then peers from his best friend to the girl next to him and back. 

“Wait... did you two come here together?” he enquires, and Timmy rolls his eyes. Saoirse slaps the boy's arm and then smirks innocently.

“Long story short: we are dating” she confesses to Armie, blushing cutely. 

“What?” Armie looks bewildered “Guys, this is amazing! You are perfect for each other, and you're both so lucky” he rubs a hand on Nick's shoulder, nodding in approval. He is genuinely happy for them. 

“We should go on a double-date!” Saoirse suggests enthusiastically, but when she glances at Timmy, he lowers his gaze sadly.

“You forgot I'm still bound to someone else” he murmurs. Armie sighs in frustration.

“There must be a way you can release yourself from your obligation with that scoundrel” he says. They stay in a thoughtful silence for a while, until Nick coughs, searching for their attention.

“I may have an idea, but it's very, veeery bad and could put us all in danger” the man warns his friends. Timmy looks at Armie, then at Saoirse and nods.

“Tell us, Nick. We're listening”

\--- 

When it happens, the whole city of Pasadena is talking about it and nothing else. It's such a huge event that the national newspapers have a column or two about it, and there are reporters and cameras at every corner of the streets for at least two weeks. It doesn't happen so often than an estimated business man gets caught with twelve kilograms of marijuana hidden in his own club, after all. 

Nick's idea was simple: they still had a big bunch of the  _secret ingredient_ to get rid of, and they had to find a way to send Mister Styles away for a long, long time. Everybody in town knew he was a criminal, but nobody had never found a way to incriminate him successfully. The man was smart and clever and worked with a few, loyal people; his thugs protected him with their own lives, and cleaned up his messes without question. So Nick had come up with a solution: take the cannabis from the rented storehouse (while protected by the shadows of the night, of course), and move it into one of the changing rooms in the club, then make an anonymous call to the local police and wait. The plan had worked, probably all too well: 48 hours later, the whole damn FBI had taken control of the city, questioning dozens of citizens and making random blitz in shops, warehouses, garages. The  _cookie team_ had exploded a bomb unintentionally.

All the people who worked at  _The Scaramouche_ were interrogated by the FBI, included Saoirse and Timmy: the boy was terrified by the idea of Harry looking for revenge and dragging Timmy to the bottom with him. However, the man didn't, and Timmy felt almost guilty, thinking that Harry hadn't involved him in order to protect him, but then Nick had explained the boy (with a bit too many details) the kind of  _warm welcome_ Styles would have received in jail by other prisoners if the news of him having a relationship with another man would have become public. Timmy had shuddered, involuntarily clenching his butt-cheeks, but then he had realized he was relieved by the fact that Harry would be safe, at least, because despite everything, Timmy had sincerely cared for Mister Styles when they were together. He still cared.

The mess caused by the anonymous call takes another week to blow over. The four friends decide to keep a low profile for a while: Saoirse and Timmy find a job in a supermarket, Nick keeps going to his office and Armie starts interviews in different companies. There are never enough bureaucrats nowadays.

\--- 

_ Five months later _

The party for the grand opening of  _The Drag Race_ (formerly known as  _The Scaramouche_ ) is an absolute success. Hundreds of people in extravagant outfits are filling the dancing room on the ground floor; the go-go boys and girls moving on small stages or around the pole; the strobe lights making the entire place look like the set of a sci-fi movie. Upstairs, there are two rooms for the gamble, with roulette wheels, poker tables, slot machines (not rigged) and blackjack. 

The new owner of the place is cozily sit on a couch, smoking a cigar in his brand new Yves Saint Laurent suit. Next to him, his best friend seems concerned.

“Do you even know half of these people?” Armie asks Nick, “I'm pretty sure we should have kept the old bouncer, he made a better job keeping troubles under control”

“Mmm, don't worry, _picciotto_ ” Nick replies, faking a sicilian accent and blowing out a little cloud of smoke “Jorge knows what he's doing”

“I shouldn't have left you watch _The Godfather_ part two” Armie whines, rolling his eyes. Behind the counter of the bar, a stunning Saoirse is supervising the new team of bartenders; from time to time, she peeks towards the couch and winks at her boyfriend. It was quite funny to realize that now it's her who is sleeping with the boss, and not Timmy anymore. 

Armie gets up and walks through the crowd, searching for his love: he finds him behind the main stage, talking to the group of drag queens who is going to put on a show in a few minutes.

“Don't be nervous, just be yourself and have fun, the public will love you. Everything will be amazing” Timmy tells them, and a spontaneous applause starts. The girls move around to get ready and check on their make-up and costumes, and Armie leans a hand on Timmy's hip.

“Hey, stranger” he greets the boy, kisses his nose which is their very special way to say _I was missing you_ without actually speaking. Timmy smiles up at the man.

“Hey you, mister assistant manager” he chirps, knowing that Armie is not used to that title yet.

“I'm just the guy who will sign the pay slips” the older man clarifies, grinning. He tightens the grip around Timmy's waist.

“It's so weird to be here again and not wearing a dress and high heels. I feel like an alien” Timmy jokes, pulling at the hem of his shirt (which has a pattern of sunflowers on a blue background). Armie meets his eyes.

“You know that you can come back working here, making your show, like you used to do before. I won't be jealous and I won't be in your way, I told you already. It's your choice” Armie reminds him of a conversation they had a few times. Timmy sighs and shakes his head.

“Those days are gone. Really, I want to focus on my acting classes now, and starting auditions for real plays, maybe a movie? Who knows... and I like my job at the supermarket, anyway. My colleagues are nice” he smiles sweetly. Armie hugs him and they share a kiss: they are free to do it there at the club, where nobody will judge them or harass them.

“Last night was incredible” Armie whispers and Timmy's face becomes red like a tomato. “I can't wait to go back to our apartment and do to you what you did to me yesterday” he confesses, making the boy blush even harder.

“Armieeee holy crap!” Timmy murmurs, giggling and earning another passionate kiss. 

_And in that moment, Armie feels blessed, wondering how he got so lucky to have such a miracle storming in his life one day and never leaving him since then. He feels blessed because Timmy is there, with him, in his arms._

_His Timmy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand it's over!! Thank you for sticking with me through this dark time for the fandom :( let's try to stay strong and keep writing, we need stories, especially when life gets rough. Speaking of which: I hope you are ready to fly with me in the Victorian age to meet young Lord Chalamet and the mysterious Captain Hammer... monday ;) ;)


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